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Title: Christian Ethics. Volume II.--Pure Ethics.
Creator(s): Wuttke, Adolf (1819-1870)
Print Basis: New York: Nelson & Phillips, 1873
CCEL Subjects: All
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CHRISTIAN ETHICS.
BY DR. ADOLF WUTTKE,
LATE PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY AT HALLE.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY DR. W. F. WARREN.
OF THE BOSTON UNIVERSITY.
TRANSLATED BY
JOHN P. LACROIX.
VOLUME II.--PURE ETHICS.
NEW YORK:
NELSON & PHILLIPS.
CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN.
1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
NELSON & PHILLIPS.
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
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NOTE OF TRANSLATOR.
THIS second volume contains the first of the three forms under which
Dr. Wuttke treats of the subject-matter of Christian Ethics. It
embraces and occupies the entire ethical field. Its aim is to treat
each phase and bearing of the moral life from a normal or ideal
stand-point; in other words, to present the moral life as God
originally willed, and yet wills, that it should be. It involves in its
scope, therefore, all the essential principles of the system of the
author, and constitutes a whole in and of itself.
As to the scientific character of the work, and as to whether it
answers wants which are but very imperfectly met by any of our present
English treatises; in a word, as to whether the work of Dr. Wuttke
finds before it, in the English-reading world, a comparatively
unoccupied and yet very important field, I beg leave to refer the
reader chiefly and ultimately to the work itself, but also,
preliminarily, to the special introduction to this volume, for which I
am thankfully indebted to Dr. W. F. Warren, of the Boston University.
Frank and earnest words like these from this distinguished scholar and
theologian will, I am sure, not fail to arrest the attention of whoever
thirsts after clear and truly Christian views on the great problems of
human life.
J. P. L.
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INTRODUCTION.
No literature is richer in native productions in the field of Ethics
than the English. It probably presents more original, representative
systems of moral philosophy than any other. This at least would seem to
be the verdict of a distinguished French philosopher, and French
philosophers are not often afflicted with "anglomania" in any amiable
sense. In the nineteenth Lecture of his Introduction to Ethics,
Jouffroy pays this high tribute to his neighbors across the channel:
"How has it happened, you may ask, that all these moral systems, which
we have been considering, were of English origin? The explanation of
the fact is this very simple one, that moral philosophy, properly so
called, has been infinitely more cultivated in England during the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries than in any other part of Europe.
In France, for example, the Cartesian era produced only one eminent
moralist, Malebranche; and Malebranche belonged neither to the class of
selfish philosophers, nor to that of the sentimental philosophers.
Cartesianism was followed in France, in the middle of the eighteenth
century, by a new philosophy, but this was the system of materialism in
metaphysics and of selfishness in morals; and called to choose between
Helvetius and Hobbes, I could not but prefer Hobbes. Much the same
might be said of the philosophy of Germany, which has always been more
metaphysical than moral, and has never exhibited any forms of the
selfish or instinctive systems, which have obtained such a European
celebrity as those of Hobbes, of Smith, and of Hume." That this
fertility of Anglo-Saxon mind in the department of ethical speculation
was not limited to the centuries named, is clear from the bulk of our
more recent ethical literature. Its full stream has never subsided, and
is to-day pouring on past Bain and Barratt, in England, past Hickok and
Hopkins in America.
But while this department of our literature is almost immeasurable, and
certainly invaluable, it is sadly deficient in works written from a
distinctively Christian stand-point. One large portion of our treatises
are purely philosophical. Another, perhaps still larger, wretchedly
confuse and mix up the ethics of philosophy with the ethics of
revelation. Scarce one author has attempted to present in an
independent scientific form the whole ethical system of Christianity.
It is much as if we had innumerable treatises on what is called natural
theology, but as yet not one on the doctrines of the Christian
Revelation. Didactic theologians have occasionally included in their
Bodies of Divinity a brief account of the "Morals of Christianity," but
thus far no one has yet done for Christian Ethics in our literature,
what Danaeus and Calixtus did for it in the Reformed and Lutheran
Churches of continental Europe. The Science of Christian Ethics is with
us almost unknown. Too many of our least suspected manuals, written by
honored and able evangelical divines, presuppose and continually imply
a Socinian anthropology, and a worse than Romish soteriology. [1]
Whatever may be the true explanation of this grave deficiency, it
certainly is not due to an oversight of the essential difference
between philosophical and Christian Ethics. Not a few of our
evangelical writers have pointed out the incompleteness and
comparatively imperfect basis of the former; but, with the exception of
Wardlaw, scarce one has done any thing to supplant or to supplement it.
John Foster, in the Fourth of his "Essays," has some excellent thoughts
on the impossibility of ignoring such revealed facts as Human
Depravity, Redemption, the Mission of the Spirit, Immortality, and
Future Judgment, in any comprehensive and thorough presentation of the
system of Human Duty. Richard Watson enumerates five grave mischiefs,
which result from the attempt "to teach morals independently of
Christianity." The writer of the essay on the Science of Christian
Ethics in the work, "Science and the Gospel," (London, 1870,) a writer
who acknowledges his great obligation to the lucid and admirable
Wuttke," calling him "one of the most deservedly distinguished
ethicists of modern times," "a Christian ethicist of superlative
merit," expresses this sentiment: "The propriety of discussing moral
questions apart from their natural and immediate implication with
Christian Truth, admits of the gravest doubts." Wardlaw goes even.
further and asserts that, "The science of morals has no province at all
independently of theology, and it cannot be philosophically discussed
except upon theological principles." Watson's final definition of the
relation of the two systems or methods is less extreme than this, and
accords very nearly with that given by Wuttke in section fourth of his
Introduction. [2]
But whatever may be thought of philosophical ethics, or of the exact
relation of the two branches to each other, no believer in Christian
Revelation can for a moment call in question the legitimacy of
specifically Christian Ethics. No Christian believer can possibly speak
his whole mind respecting man, the ethical subject, or God, the author
of our ethical relations, or our destiny, the result of our ethical
action, without stating or implying all the fundamental doctrines of
Christianity. Indeed, no man can elaborate any ethical system of any
considerable completeness without definite and most important
theological implications. As a matter of fact, most of our accepted
text-books are thoroughly Deistic. They give us not the Morals of
Christianity, or of Judaism, or of heathenism, but simply the ethical
system of Lord Herbert, or Theodore Parker. We are glad to possess
them, glad to see just what ethical consequence Deism carries with it;
nevertheless we must repudiate their claims to an exclusive occupancy
of the field, and especially their claims to represent the ethics of
Revelation. Their use in Christian schools is at least of very doubtful
expediency. Let every theological system, even those of the heathen,
develop its supplementary ethical system, only let it not attempt to
palm off its own ethical implication for those of wholly different
systems.
The value of any elaborate system of ethics is largely in proportion to
its fidelity to the theological views and principles of its author. If
we study an atheistic system, we desire to ascertain precisely what the
logical results of atheism are in the field of morals. This is the only
special benefit we can hope to gain from the study. So a modern Jewish,
Mohammedan, or ethnic system is valuable in proportion as it gives us
the true ethical results of the particular religion from which it
springs. Thorough ethical treatises are, therefore, to be welcomed from
whatever theological stand-point they may be written. If thorough, they
will serve the cause of truth. In the way of reductio ad absurdum they
will often evince the untenableness of the theological principles upon
which they rest. So far as they spring from correct theological
conceptions, they will mutually complement and confirm each other.
The same thing may be said of systems of Christian ethics written from
different confessional stand-points. Their value, too, is usually in
proportion to their logical consistency. One of their most important
uses is to throw light upon the necessary ethical consequences of their
respective types of doctrine. In this respect the most strictly
confessional are the most useful. In the interest of universal
Christian theology, therefore, we greatly desiderate a thorough and
active confessional cultivation of this field. The more clearly and
constantly conscious of his distinctive doctrinal stand-point, the
better service the author will render. Nothing is gained, much lost, by
mixing up essentially Romish and essentially Protestant definitions. In
like manner Augustinian ethics are as eternally distinct from Pelagian
as are the theological systems so named. If Methodist theology be true,
no consistent Calvinist can ever write a system of ethics acceptable to
a Methodist, and vice versa. Romanism, Calvinism, Lutheranism and
Methodism as much need distinctive treatises upon ethics as upon
Christian doctrine. Each has the same right to the one as to the other.
Nor will they thus aggravate and prolong the dissensions and divisions
of the universal Church; they will rather accelerate the coining of the
day when each great branch of Christendom will have matured its
distinctive thought and perfected its distinctive life, preparatory to
a higher and grander synthesis. Even before that day comes, each type
of ethical inculcation will have its essential and characteristic
excellences, and so effectively supplement all other types.
Especially welcome to the English reader must be a thorough scientific
presentation of Christian ethics from the Lutheran stand-point.
Hitherto none has been accessible. The whole theological literature of
Lutheranism in the English language is deplorably meager. Considering
the historic interest and present relations of this great Church of the
Reformation, the deficiency is almost inexplicable. In this country the
actual numerical proportions of the communion, its rapid growth from
immigration, the close affinities of its best theology and best life
with the dominant theology and life of the country, conspire to render
its teachings and spirit a study of great interest to every intelligent
American believer. Nor can the unedifying controversies and schisms
which have hitherto so excessively characterized the body, or even the
high-churchly self-complacency of such representatives as the author of
"The Conservative Reformation and its Theology." effectually prevent
the Christians of neighboring folds from cherishing a growing interest
in their ecclesiastical life, and in that of their confessional and
ethnological kindred in the Fatherland.
An English translation of Wuttke's great work on "Christian Ethics"
ought, therefore, to be warmly welcomed on many accounts. First, for
all the excellent reasons suggested by Dr. Riehm, at the close of his
special preface to Volume I of this translation.
Second, because as a work on Christian Ethics it will contribute to the
supply of what is perhaps the gravest and most unaccountable lack in
the whole range of English theological literature.
Third, because it will have a tendency to stimulate American and
English moralists to a cultivation of their science from evangelical,
and possibly from strictly confessional, stand-points.
Fourth, because by means of it the English student will now, for the
first time, have an opportunity to see in full scientific form the
ethical implications and inculcations of modern evangelical
Lutheranism.
For all these reasons, it affords the writer unfeigned pleasure to bid
the new-clad work God-speed, and to commend it to the faithful study of
all lovers of Christian truth and holiness.
Wm. F. Warren.
Boston University, School of Theology, October, 1872.
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[1] Twenty years ago, when a mere college lad, the present writer
addressed a letter to Dr. Wayland, respectfully and earnestly inquiring
in what way certain statements in his "Moral Science" could be
harmonized with evangelical views of human depravity. His answer was a
curiosity. I would give not a little to be able to present it here.
[2] See "Institutes," Vol. II, bottom of p. 474.
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CONTENTS.
PAGE
S: 50. CLASSIFICATION OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS
1
PART FIRST.
PURE ETHICS; OR, THE MORAL PER SE IRRESPECTIVELY OF SIN.
Introductory Observations.
I. NOTION AND ESSENCE OF THE MORAL, S: 51
5
S: 51. THE GOOD
5
S:S: 52-54. THE MORAL
8-14
II. RELATION OF MORALITY TO RELIGION, S: 55
15
III. SCIENTIFIC CLASSIFICATION OF ETHICS, S:S: 56-57
23-29
CHAPTER I.
THE MORAL SUBJECT, S: 58.
I. THE INDIVIDUAL MORAL SUBJECT, MAN, S: 59
36
A. MAN AS A SPIRIT, S: 59
36
S: 60. (1) THE COGNIZING SPIRIT
41
S: 61. (2) THE VOLITIONATING SPIRIT, FREEDOM OF WILL
45
S: 62. (3) THE FEELING SPIRIT
49
S: 63. (4) THE IMMORTAL SPIRIT
51
B. MAN AS TO HIS SENSUOUSLY-CORPOREAL LIFE, S:S: 64-66
59-64
C. THE UNITY OF SPIRIT AND BODY, S: 67
67
S: 67. (1) THE STAGES OF LIFE
67
S: 68. (2) TEMPERAMENTS AND NATIONAL PECULIARITIES
71
S: 69. (3) THE SEXES
74
II. THE COMMUNITY-LIFE AS MORAL SUBJECT, S: 70
76
CHAPTER II.
GOD AS THE GROUND AND PROTOTYPE OF THE MORAL LIFE AND AS THE AUTHOR OF
THE LAW.
S: 72. (1) GOD AS HOLY WILL
82
S: 73. (2) GOD AS PROTOTYPE OF THE MORAL
85
S: 74. (3) GOD AS UPHOLDER OF THE MORAL WORLD-GOVERNMENT
87
S: 75. (4) GOD AS HOLY LAW-GIVER
90
I. THE REVELATION OF THE DIVINE WILL TO MAN, S: 76
92
(a) THE EXTRAORDINARY, POSITIVE, SUPERNATURAL REVELATION
92
S: S: 77-78. (b) THE INNER REVELATION AND THE CONSCIENCE
96-99
II. THE ESSENCE OF THE MORAL LAW AS THE DIVINE WILL, S: 79
107
S: 79. (a) THE FORM OF THE LAW (COMMAND, PROHIBITION, "OUGHT")
107
S: 80. (b) SCOPE OF THE LAW (REQUIREMENT, COUNSELS)
112
S: 81. (C) RELATION OF THE LAW TO THE PERSONAL PECULIARITY
118
S: 82. THE ALLOWED
122
S: 83. MORAL PRINCIPLES OR LIFE-RULES
133
S: 84. DUTY
136
S: 85. RIGHT
139
CHAPTER III.
THE OBJECT OF THE MORAL ACTIVITY.
I. GOD, S: 86
145
II. THE CREATED, S: 87
149
S: 87. (1) THE MORAL PERSON HIMSELF
149
S: 88. (2) THE EXTERNAL WORLD
151
S: 89. EXTERNAL NATURE
156
CHAPTER IV.
THE MORAL MOTIVE.
S: 90. PLEASURE AND DISPLEASURE
159
S: 91. LOVE AND HATRED
161
S: 92. ANTE-MORAL LOVE
163
S: 93. MORAL LOVE
168
S: 94. LOVE TO GOD
169
S: 95. GOD-FEARING
171
S: 96. GOD-TRUSTING AND ENTHUSIASM
173
S: 97. HAPPINESS
175
CHAPTER V.
THE MORAL ACTIVITY, S: 89.
SUBDIVISION FIRST: THE MORAL ACTIVITY per se IN ITS INNER DIFFERENCES,
S: 99
180
I. MORAL SPARING, S: 100
182
II. MORAL APPROPRIATING, S: 101
186
(a) IN RESPECT TO WHAT ELEMENT OF THE OBJECT IS APPROPRIATED, S: l01
186
S: 102. (1) NATURAL APPROPRIATING
187
S: 103. (2) SPIRITUAL APPROPRIATING
190
(b) IN RESPECT TO HOW THE OBJECT IS APPROPRIATED, S: 104
191
(1) GENERAL (UNIVERSAL) APPROPRIATING, COGNIZING, S: 104.
192
(2) PARTICULAR (INDIVIDUAL) APPROPRIATING, ENJOYING, S: 105
194
III. MORAL FORMING, S: 106
198
(a) IN RESPECT TO WHAT ELEMENT OF THE OBJECT IS FORMED, S: 107
200
S: 107. (1) NATURAL FORMING
200
S: 108. (2) SPIRITUAL FORMING
201
(b) IN RESPECT TO HOW THE OBJECT IS FORMED, S: 109
203
S: 109. (1) PARTICULAR FORMING
203
S: 110. (2) GENERAL FORMING, ARTISTIC ACTIVITY
205
S:S: 111, 112. APPROPRIATING AND FORMING AS MORALLY RELATED TO EACH
OTHER
210-212
SUBDIVISION SECOND: THE MORAL ACTIVITY IN RELATION TO ITS DIFFERENCES
AS RELATING TO ITS DIFFERENT OBJECTS:
I. IN RELATION TO GOD, S: 113
214
(a) THE MORAL APPROPRIATING OF GOD, FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE, S: 113
214
S:S: 114-117. PRAYER AND SACRIFICE
218-221
(b) THE MORAL SPARING OF THE DIVINE, S: 118
232
II. IN RELATION TO THE MORAL PERSON HIMSELF, S: 119
236
(a) MORAL SPARING, S: 119
236
(b) MORAL APPROPRIATING AND FORMING, S: 120
237
S:S: 120, 121. (1) OF THE BODY BY THE SPIRIT
238-242
S: 122. (2) OF THE SPIRIT ITSELF
247
III. IN RELATION TO OTHER PERSONS, S: 123
252
(a) MORAL SPARING, S: 123
252
(b) MORAL APPROPRIATING AND FORMING, S:S: 124-126
254-262
IV. IN RELATION TO OBJECTIVE NATURE, S: 127
264
(a) MORAL SPARING, S: 127
261
(b) MORAL APPROPRIATING.
S: 128. (1) SPIRITUAL
266
S: 129. (2) ACTUAL
267
(c) MORAL FORMING, S: 130
271
CHAPTER VI.
S: THE FRUIT OF THE MORAL LIFE AS MORAL END.
S: 131. GOOD
274
S: 132. THE HIGHEST GOOD
275
I. THE PERSONAL PERFECTION OF THE INDIVIDUAL, S: 133
277
(a) OUTWARD POSSESSIONS, S: 134
270
(b) INNER POSSESSIONS, S: 135
280
S: 135. (1) WISDOM
280
S: 136. (2) BLISS
283
S: 137. (3) HOLY CHARACTER
284
(c) THE GOOD AS POWER, S: 138
289
S: 138. VIRTUE
289
S: 139. THE VIRTUES
291
S: 140. THE PIETY-VIRTUES
297
II. MORAL COMMUNION AS A FRUIT OF THE MORAL LIFE, S: 141
302
(a) THE FAMILY, S: 142
304
S: 142. SEXUAL COMMUNION
304
S:S: 143. 144. MARRIAGE
304-306
S: 145. PARENTS AND CHILDREN
313
S: 146. BROTHERS AND SISTERS, AND FRIENDS
318
S: 147. BLOOD-RELATIONSHIP AS BEARING ON MARRIAGE
319
S: 148. FAMILY PROPERTY AND FAMILY HONOR
323
(b) MORAL SOCIETY, S: 149
324
S: 150. HONOR, THE MORAL HOME
330
(c) THE MORAL ORGANIZATION OF SOCIETY, S: 151
332
S: 151. RIGHT AND LAW
332
S: 152. CHURCH AND STATE, THEOCRACY
334
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CHRISTIAN ETHICS.
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SECTION L.
THEOLOGICAL Christian ethics, as distinguished from philosophical
ethics, has an historical presupposition--the redemption accomplished
in Christ. But redemption presupposes sin, from the power of which it
delivers man; and sin presupposes the moral idea per se, of which it is
the actual negation. Hence the knowledge of Christian ethics, as
resting on the accomplished redemption, presupposes a knowledge of the
moral state of man while as yet unredeemed, as in turn this knowledge
presupposes a knowledge of that ideal state of being from which man
turned aside in sin. Christian ethics has therefore a threefold state
of things to present:
(1) The ethical or moral per se irrespectively of sin,--the moral in
its ideal form, the proto-ethical, that which God, as holy, wills.
(2) The fall from the truly moral, namely, sin, or the guilty
perversion of the moral idea in the actual world,--that which man, as
unholy, wills.
(3) The moral in its restoration by redemption, that is, the
regeneration of moral truth out of sinful corruption,--that which is
willed by God as gracious, and by man as repentant.
These three forms of the moral or ethical stand, in relation to
humanity, not beside but before and after each other,--constitute a
moral history of humanity: the first stage is pre-historical; the
second is the substance of the history of humanity up to Christ; the
third is the substance of that stream of history which proceeds from
Christ and is embodied in, and carried forward by, those who belong to
Christ.
As in Christianity all religious and moral life stands in relation to
the redemption accomplished in Christ, that is, to an historical fact,
hence Christian ethics must also, under one of its phases, bear an
historical character. Man is Christianly-moral only in so far as he is
conscious of being redeemed by Christ; hence in this Christianly-moral
consciousness the above-stated three thoughts are directly involved.
Only that one can know himself as redeemed who knows himself as sinful
without redemption; and only he can know himself as sinful who has a
consciousness of the moral ideal. The classification of ethics here
presented is based therefore in the essence of Christian morality
itself. The first division presents ideal morality as unaffected as yet
by the reality of sin,--morality in the state of innocence; the second
presents the actual morality of man as natural and
spiritually-fallen,--morality in the state of sin; the third presents
the Christian morality of man as rescued from sin by regeneration, and
reconciled to and united with God,--morality in the state of grace. The
first part is predominantly a steadily-progressive unfolding of the
moral idea per se; the second belongs predominantly to historical
experience; while the third, as a reconciling of reality with the
ideal, belongs at the same time to both fields. The historical person
of Christ is, for all three spheres of the moral, a revelation of the
truth that is to be embraced; in relation to ideal morality Christ is
the pure moral prototype per se--the historical realization of the
moral idea; in relation to the moral state in the second sphere, he
manifests the antagonism of sin to moral truth, in the hatred of which
he is the object; in relation to the third sphere, he is the
essentially founding and co-working power, and manifests the antagonism
of holiness to sin.
To present distinctively-Christian morality alone would be
scientifically defective, as, without the two antecedent forms of the
moral, it cannot be properly understood. To present ideal morality
alone is the task of purely philosophical ethics,--usually, however,
instead of the proposed pretendedly ideal ethics, the result is simply
an artfully disguised justification of the natural sinful nature of
unredeemed man. The ideal morality of our first division is in itself
fully sufficient only for such as do not admit an antagonism between
the actual state of humanity and the requirements of the moral idea, or
who explain it into a mere remaining-behind the subsequently
to-be-attained perfection, instead of conceiving of it as an
essentially perverted state. The fundamental thought of Christian
morality is this, namely, that the natural man is not simply normally
imperfect, but that he is, guiltily, in an essential antagonism to the
truly good, and that he is in need of a thorough spiritual renewing or
regeneration. That this is the case is not to be proved `a priori, not
to be developed scientifically, but to be recognized as a fact. With
the reality of sin the moral life becomes essentially changed, and an
ethical treatise which should make reference to sin only as a mere
possibility, as is the case with purely philosophical ethics, would,
for this reason, be insufficient for the actual state of humanity. The
history of humanity has become in all respects other than it would have
been without sin, and hence a complete system of ethics cannot have
merely a purely philosophical, but must have also an historical
character,--must grapple with the entire and dread earnestness of real
sin. If it ended at this stage, however, it would present but a dismal
panorama of woe, utterly unrelieved by a gleam of comfort. But divine
love has interrupted the history of sin by an historical
redemption-act, and founded a history of salvation inside of
humanity,--has given to man the possibility and the power to overcome
sin in himself, and to rise up from his God-estrangement toward the
moral goal. This is the third sphere, that of distinctively Christian
morality, which, while it has indeed its prototype in the ideal
ante-sinful form of morality, is nevertheless not identical therewith,
inasmuch as its actual presuppositions and conditions are entirely
different,--namely, no longer a per se pure, and spiritually and
morally vigorous, subject, and no longer a per se good, and, for all
moral influences, open and receptive, objective world, but, on the
contrary, in both cases an obstinate resistance; it is in both respects
therefore a morality of incessant struggle, while that of our first
division is rather the morality of a simple development;--it is also
not a mere pressing forward out of an, as yet, incomplete and in so
far, imperfect state, but a real overcoming of actual immoral powers;
and the earnestness of the morality, as well as of the ethical system,
rises in proportion as we more deeply comprehend the inner and
essential difference between the above-given three divisions of the
subject-matter of ethics, as well as at the same time their inner and
historical connection.
This our distribution of the subject-matter of ethics, though
manifestly very accordant with the Christian consciousness, has been
assailed on many sides; and especially have some writers manifested
great concern as to whence in fact we could have any knowledge of this
ideal and strictly-speaking non-realized morality. Such an objection
ought at least not to be urged by those who think themselves able to
construct a system, even of Christian ethics, upon the mere facts of
the consciousness, or indeed upon a basis purely speculative. But
certainly all who conceive of sin as a something absolutely necessary,
will of course have to regard our first division as a pure product of a
dreamy imagination; we contest, however, to writers holding such an
opinion; the right to deny to a system of Christian ethics--which is
throughout inspired with the thought that sin is the ruin of men [Prov.
xiv, 34] and an abomination to the Lord [xv, 9]--the privilege of
treating upon and discussing that which God, as holy, requires of his
good-created children. As to whether for such discussion we have also a
source of knowledge, will appear as we proceed.
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PART FIRST.
THE MORAL PER SE IRRESPECTIVELY OF SIN.
Introductory Observations.
__________________________________________________________________
I. NOTION AND ESSENCE OF THE MORAL.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LI. The Good.
THE moral idea rests upon that of purpose or end. An end is an idea to
be realized by a life-movement. Whatever answers to an idea is good
relatively to that idea. Whatever answers to, and perfectly realizes, a
rational, and hence also a divine, idea, is good absolutely. All divine
life and activity has a divine purpose; whatever God brings to
realization is therefore absolutely good,--is in perfect harmony with
the divine will.--A nature-object is good per se and directly, in
virtue of the creative act itself; and whatever is implied in it, as an
end to be attained to by development, is actually realized in fact by
an inner divinely-willed necessity. The essence of a rational creature
is per se likewise good; but its full realization as that of a truly
rational being, that is, its rational end, is not directly forced upon
it by natural necessity, but is proposed to it as to be realized by its
own rational, and hence free, activity. The goodness of a merely
natural being lies in the necessarily self-fulfilling purpose of God in
the creature; that of a rational creature lies in the free,
self-fulfilling, through it, of the will of God to the creature. The
divine will is, in the latter case, not merely an end for God, it is
also a conscious end for the rational creature. The good in general, in
so far as it is a conscious end for a rational creature, is a
(concrete) good. In as far as this good is unitary and perfect, and
hence perfectly answering to the divine will as to the creature, it is
the highest good,--which consequently must also be absolutely one and,
for all rational creatures, essentially the same, namely, their fully
attained rational perfection. Hence all rational development of a
rational creature aims at the realization of the highest good.
As far back as in ancient Greece, philosophers have engaged in the
discussion of the notion of the good, and of the highest good, and have
proposed various definitions thereof,--those of Aristotle being in the
main correct. In and of itself the question is quite simple; it becomes
difficult only when we look upon the actual condition of man without
fully taking into account the antagonism of his reality with his ideal,
and are for that reason unable clearly to distinguish in human
aspirations the abnormal from the normal. As to the notion of the
relatively good, there is no dispute; it is always the. agreement of a
reality with an idea or with another reality, and hence is based on the
thought of a mutual congruity of the manifold.--The simple and true
notion of the good is indicated in Gen. i, 3, 4, 31; [comp. 1 Tim. iv,
4]. God speaks and it comes to pass; the reality is the perfect
expression of the divine thought and will, and hence, of its own ideal.
We have here the notion, not merely of the relatively good, but of the
absolutely good; relatively good is every harmonizing or congruence of
the different; absolutely good is a harmonizing with God. Hence, first
of all, God himself is good and the prototype of all good [Psa. xxv, 8;
lxxxvi, 5; Matt. xix, 17],--good relatively to himself, as being in
perfect harmony with himself,--good relatively to his creatures, in
that He sustains them in the form of life which He gave them, that is,
in their true peculiarities and autonomy, and constantly manifests
himself to them as their loving God and Father [Psa. xxxiv, 9]. A
creature is good in so far as it is an image of God,--namely, such a
revelation of the divine as is conditioned by the normal peculiarity of
the creature,--and, from another point of view, in so far as its actual
state is in harmony with its essence, its ideal, and hence also (since
all creatures are created for each other) with the totality of
creation. Every thing that God created was "very good" also in this
respect, namely, that the different creatures constituted among
themselves a perfectly concordant and harmonious whole; "it was not
good that the man should be alone," seeing that a finite creature is,
in its very essence, not a mere isolated individual, but should
constitute a member of a community. Hence the expression tvv has also
the signification of kalos, gratus, jucundus, suavis; we attribute this
quality to an object as bearing upon ourselves in so far as it
harmonizes with and reflects our own peculiarities,--in so far as we
feel an affinity for it and are enriched and furthered by it in our
life-sphere and activity. Hence, that is truly good for man which
contributes to the attainment of his true, divinely-intended
perfection, and hence, in the last instance, this perfection itself.
Now, a mere nature-object possesses the good within itself as a
necessary law, and cannot but realize it; but a rational creature has
it within itself as a rational consciousness, as a free law, as a
command, and it may decline to realize it. In a nature-object the end
fulfills itself; in a rational creature it is fulfilled only by the
free will of the same. Nature-objects are, in and of themselves, an
image of God; but man was created not only in accordance with the image
of God, but also unto it,--has this image before him as a goal to be
attained to by free action, as a rational task.
Whatever is good is good for some object, and is for the same, in so
far as actually appropriated by it, a good. That only can be a true
good which is good absolutely, that is, divine; all true goods are
front God [James i, 17], and lead to God. The idea of the highest good
we propose here to determine, preliminarily, not as to its contents,
but simply as to its form. It cannot belong exclusively to any one
phase of man's being, but must consist in the symmetrical completion of
his life as a whole; hence it cannot be simply the perfection of his
isolated individuality as such, but only as a living member of the
living whole. Nor is the highest good a merely relatively higher among
many other less high goods, otherwise the sum total of the former
together with these latter would amount to something higher still; on
the contrary all goods collectively, as far as they are really such,
must be single elements of the highest good; and the simple fact that a
particular object which I desire, and which hence seems to me as a
good, is adapted to be a manifestation or an element of the highest
good, is clear proof that it is a real, and not a merely seeming, good.
Whatever a man aims after appears to him as a good; whatever he shuns,
as an evil; and rationality consists in the fact that he aim not at the
seemingly, but at the really, good, and, in each single good, at the
highest good; and this aiming is itself good. The highest good is,
consequently, the highest perfection of the rational personality, or
the perfect development of God-likeness, or, in other words, the
perfect agreement of the actual state of man's entire being and life
with his ideal, that is, with the will of God,--which all are, in fact,
only so many different expressions for the same thing. Whatever
contributes to this highest end is good; whatever leads from it is
evil.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LII. The Moral.
In so far as a rational creature realizes the good rationally, that is,
with a consciousness of the good end, and with a free will, it is
moral. The moral is the good in so far as it is realized by the free
will of a rational creature; and. in this manifestation of rational
life, both the will, and also the action and the end, are moral; and
true morality consists in the complete harmony of these three elements.
Morality is therefore the life of a rational being who accomplishes the
good with conscious freedom, and, hence, works the harmony of
existence,--as well the harmony of its own being with God as also (and
in fact thereby) the harmony of the being in and with itself and with
all other beings, in so far as they themselves are in harmony with God.
Morality, therefore, embraces within itself two phases of rational
life: on the one hand, it preserves and develops the normal autonomy
and peculiarity of the moral subject,--does not let it vanish into, or
be absorbed by, God or the All,--for there is harmony only where there
is a distinctness and individuality of the objects compared; on the
other hand, it does not permit this difference to become an antagonism
or contradiction, but preserves it in unity,--shapes it into rational
harmony. The moral is therefore the beautiful in the sphere of rational
freedom,--is rationally self-manifesting freedom itself. To be rational
and to be moral is, in the sphere of freedom, one and the same thing.
Moralness bears the same relation to the goodness of mere
nature-objects, as conscious freedom to unconscious necessity. The
goodness of creatures is not their mere being, but their life, for God
whose image they are, is life; God is not a God of the dead but of the
living. Hence the goodness of rational creatures is essentially life
also, and in this life morality realizes the good. With this view of
morality we may properly enough speak also of a morality of God; the
fact that human morality is really a progressive development of the
image of God, even presupposes this; moreover the Scriptures positively
express this thought, and there is no good ground for explaining it
away. God is good [tvv] and upright; [ysr; Deut. xxxii, 4; Psa. xxv,
8]; hence our German hymn: "O God, thou upright God!") is strictly
Biblical. God, as the absolutely holy will, is perfect morality itself,
inasmuch as his entire being and activity are in perfect accord with
his will and essence, and inasmuch as his infinite justice and love
establish and uphold the harmony of life in the created universe. God's
morality is his holiness. For this reason God is also the perfect
prototype and pattern of all morality; "ye shall therefore be holy, for
I am holy" [Lev. xi, 45]; also virtue, arete, in the strict sense of
the word, is attributed to God [1 Pet. ii, 9; 2 Pet. i, 3]. Hence, man
is moral not merely in general, in that he makes God's will the law of
his life, but more specifically, in that he makes God's morality his
pattern. In God all good is also moral or holy; in the creature; all
that is moral is also good, but all that is good is not also moral.
Rothe objects to the more common notion of the moral, because it
embraces only the idea of the morally-good, but not that of the moral
in its secondary sense; in his view a definition of the moral should
include also the morally-evil. It is evidently proper, however, to
confine a notion primarily to the normal manifestation of its contents,
and to treat the contrary manifestation as an abnormal perversion.
Surely, for example, it would be too much to ask that the notion of the
rational be so conceived as to embrace also the irrational,--that of
organism, so as to include also disease. In fact the objection of Rothe
has weight with him, chiefly for the reason that, in his system, evil
is viewed not as a merely morbid phenomenon, but on the contrary as a
necessary transition-state of development; in which case, of course, a
definition of the moral would have to include also evil.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LIII. The Moral. (Cont'd)
Though morality, as the free realizing of the good, appears essentially
in the sphere of the will, yet as this will is a rational one,--the
expression of a consciousness and of a love to the object of that
consciousness,--hence, morality embraces the whole life and being of
the spirit in all its forms of manifestation, as knowing, feeling, and
willing. Moral knowledge is faith, not only religious, but also
rational faith in general; moral feeling is pleasure in the good, and
love of it, and, on the other hand, displeasure in the non-good; moral
willing is a striving after the realization of the good. Morality
itself, however, is not one of these three, but always and necessarily
the union of all three of these phases of the spirit-life.
These three phases of the spirit-life are severally and collectively an
expression of the union of the subject with objective being, with the
All in general,--in the final instance with God. The subject itself
becomes also to itself an object, and only thereby attains to its
truth. The mere isolatedness of a being is per se evil, is the opposite
of true existence and life, the ruin of life, that is, death,--is a
dissolution of the unitary collective life into indifferent ultimate
atoms. The individual exists in its truth only in so far as it comes
into union with the All; this union is not its annihilation but its
preservation, its recognition in the All as an organic member of the
same; it is a mutual, vital relation, a unity in diversity; and this is
in fact the essence of life, namely, that both the individual being and
the collective whole, in all its parts, stand in relation to each
other, and that, in this relation, the individual is, on the one hand,
as a member, quite as fully at one with the whole, as, on the other, it
is an integral being of itself.
In actively knowing, man brings the object into relation to
himself,--takes it up, in its idea, spiritually into himself; in
feeling, the subject brings himself in this spiritual appropriation
into relation to himself,--embraces the appropriated object as in
harmony or as in disharmony with his own being and character, that is,
as pleasing or displeasing; in willing, the subject assumes an active
determining relation toward the approvingly or disapprovingly received
object; hence, the will rests on feeling, as in turn, feeling on
knowledge, though the latter may be obscure and only half-conscious. In
each of these three respects the spirit may be more or less free or
unfree; in so far so it is free, it is also moral. It is true, knowing
and feeling are primarily unfree,--they press themselves directly upon
the essentially passive subject without his voluntary co-operation, and
in so far as this is the case they are as yet extra-moral; but the
moment they appear as freely willed they enter into the moral sphere,
and this is their higher, rational form. Knowing is moral when we will
to know rationally, that is, when we embrace isolated being, whether
that of objective nature or of ourselves, as not existing for itself in
its isolation, but on the contrary, when, passing beyond its
isolatedness, we conceive it as having ultimately a divine ground,--in
other words, when we associate all individual being with the infinite
being and life of God, and thus conceive all existence as unitary and
as established by God. Now, this passing beyond the individual object
is not an unfree process; the object does not force us to do so, much
rather it arrests us at its own immediate reality; but it is our
rational nature that induces us to will to pass beyond. Knowing becomes
moral when it becomes a pious consciousness,--assumes a religious
character; and this pious associating of the finite with the infinite
is faith, which is in its very essence religious. Faith can never be
compelled by a presentation of arguments; in all its forms it is a
voluntary matter; and from the simple fact that faith is a moral
knowing, and hence includes within itself willingness and love, it is
consequently not a mere knowing, not a mere holding-for-true; hence it
may be, and is, a moral requirement. Without this willingness to find
and acknowledge the divine in infinite objects, there is no knowledge
of God, and hence no real rationality of knowledge. Though faith is
essentially religious, nevertheless, springing forth from this source,
it overflows and fructifies with its moral potency the entire field of
rational knowledge. By virtue of this faith we have confidence in the
truthfulness of the universe,--confidence that truth is discoverable,
that the laws of our mind and the impressions made upon us by the
external world are not untrue and defective, that divine order and
conformity to law, and hence conformity to reason, pervade the
universe, so that, consequently, we may rely on this order and this
conformity to law. Without such a faith, without such a confidence
independently of all presentation of evidence, there could be no
knowledge--no possibility of a spiritual life in general. Without this
confidence we would be unable to avoid suspecting poison in every cup
of water, in every morsel of bread,--we would tremble lest, at every
step, the ground might give way beneath our feet. Fondness of doubting
presupposes depravity; skepticism proper, like the arts of sophistry,
is an immoral dissolution of rational knowledge; under the skeptic's
eye, both the spiritual world and the realm of nature fall apart into
lifeless ultimate atoms.
In so far as feeling is simply a direct consciousness of such an
impressed state of the subject, it is as yet extra-moral, because
unfree; it becomes rational and moral through freedom on the basis of
the religious consciousness,--namely, when I do not permit myself to be
determined by finite things in an absolutely passive manner, but, on
the contrary, when I subordinate all my states of feeling to the power
of faith or of the religious consciousness,--in a word, when I rise so
far into the sphere of freedom as to have pleasure only in that which
is God-pleasing, and displeasure only in the ungodly,--when my love to
finite things is only a phase of my love to God.
The will, the more immediate sphere of the moral, is in itself likewise
not as yet moral, but must first become so. Free will, as distinguished
from the unfree impulse of the brute, is primarily as yet devoid of
positive contents,--is only the possibility, but not the actuality, of
the moral. It becomes a really free and, hence, a moral will only by
coining into relation to faith, namely, in that it ceases to be a
merely individual will determined solely by the isolated personality of
the subject,--for, as such, it is as yet simply irrational and
animal,--and furthermore in that it imbues itself with a positive
faith,--determines itself by its God-consciousness and by its love to
God,--so that thus, passing beyond mere finite being, it bases its
outgoings on a rational faith in the infinite. This is so wide-reaching
a condition of the moral will, that even an evil will (which also lies
within the sphere of the moral) is determined by a certain
faith-consciousness, seeing that such a will is a rebelling against its
God-consciousness; "devils also believe" in God's existence "and
tremble" [James ii, 19]; the degree of guilt is strictly determined by
the degree in which God is known. Hence the will is morally good when
it rests on faith,--when it strives to realize the God-pleasing because
of its God-consciousness and of its love to God; and it is morally evil
when, despite its God-consciousness, it aims at the ungodly,--seeks to
divorce finite beings, and especially its own, from its union with God.
Hence in general terms, though morality has its essential sphere in the
will, yet it also embraces, as intimately involved therein, the spheres
of knowledge and of feeling.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LIV. The Moral. (Concl'd)
As the life of a rational spirit is continuous, namely, a continuous
free activity, hence it bears continuously a moral character. Morality
is not simply a succession of single moral points, it is an
uninterrupted life, and every moment of the same is either in harmony
or in antagonism with the moral end,--is either good or evil. In the
entire life of man there is not a single morally indifferent moment or
state.
Man is God's image only in so far as he lives this God-likeness, for
God is life, and all life is continuous; a real interruption of the
same is its destruction,--is death. Sleep is only a change in the
manifestation of life, arising from the union of the spirit with
material nature, but not a real interruption of the same. Spirit sleeps
not; also the slumbering spirit is moral,--may be pure or impure; the
soul of the saint cannot have unholy dreams; dreams are often unwelcome
mirrorings forth of impure hearts; when Jacob rebuked his son Joseph
for his supposed ambitious dream [Gen. xxxvii, 10], his moral judgment
was quite correct,--simply his hypothesis was erroneous. Ally
assumption that there are morally indifferent moments in life is
anti-moral. And that there are;, in fact, in the natural life of man
middle states between life and death,--for example, swoons,--is of
itself a fruit of depravity, and in the same sense that death is such.
Morality is the health of the rational spirit; and every interruption
of health is disease. God's will is incessantly binding; there is
absolutely nothing conceivable which would not either harmonize with,
or antagonize, it.
__________________________________________________________________
II. RELATION OF MORALITY TO RELIGION.
SECTION LV. Relation of Morality to Religion.
The religious consciousness,--which expresses the conditionment of our
being and life by God, and which, as a state of heart, is piety,--is
necessarily and intimately connected with morality, so that neither is
possible without the other; yet they are not identical. Religion and
morality, both, bring man into relation to God. In religion, however,
his relation is rather of a receptive character,--he permits the divine
to rule in him; in morality he is more self-active, he reflects forth
the God-pleasing from within himself. In religion he exalts himself to
communion with God; in morality he evidences this communion by
developing the divine image both in himself and in the external world.
In religion he turns himself away from finite individuality and
multiplicity, and toward the unitary central-point of all life; in
morality he turns himself from this divine life-center as a basis,
toward the periphery of created being,--from unity toward
multiplicity,--in order to manifest the former in the latter. The two
movements correspond to the double life-stream in every natural
organism, and hence they are simply two inseparably united phases of
one and the same spiritual life; and the very commencement of spiritual
life involves the union of them both. In religion and in morality God
glorifies himself no less than in creation,--in religion for and in
man, in morality through man; and the moral man, in that lie fulfills
God's will in and for the world, actually accomplishes the divine
purpose in creation,--the free moral activity of man being, in fact,
the divinely-willed continuation and completion of the work of
creation.
The consciousness that we, as separate individuals, have no absolutely
self-sufficient and independent existence and rights, as also that we
are not simply dependent on other finite powers, but, on the contrary,
on an infinite divine first cause, is of a religious character; and the
spiritual life that develops itself on the basis of this consciousness
is the religious life. In so far, however, as it is a disposition or
state of heart, that is, in so far as it expresses itself in the
feeling of love to God and in the thence-arising habit of will, it is
piety,--in which form it assumes directly also the character of
morality. A pious life is per se also a moral one; and morality is the
practical outgoing of piety. Religion and morality are therefore most
closely and inseparably associated; as morality rests on the
recognition that the good is either the actual state or the final
destination of all existence, and as this recognition, even in its
rudest forms, is of a religious character (since the "good" can have no
meaning save as the divine ultimate destination of creation), hence
morality without religion is impossible, and its character rises and
falls with the clearness and correctness of the religious
consciousness. He who despises religion is also immoral; and the
immoral man is also correspondingly irreligious; all immorality is a
despising of God, since it is a despising of the good as the God-like.
As now, on the other hand, religion is a believing, and hence a free,
loving recognition of the divine, and as it places man in a living
relation with God, hence all religion is per se also moral, and
religion without morality is inconceivable.
Thus, whatever is moral is religious, and whatever is religious is
moral; and yet these two are not identical; every religious life
includes in itself a moral will, and every moral action contains a
religious element,--implies religious faith; "without faith it is
impossible to please God" [Heb. xi, 6]. This looks like a contradiction
utterly irreconcilable save by making religion and morality absolutely
one and the same thing. Things, however, that are indissolubly
associated, as, for example, heat and light in the rays of the sun,
need not for that reason be identical. In the religiously-moral life
two things are always united: our individual personality as a
relatively self-dependent legitimate entity, and the recognition of God
as the unconditioned ground of our entire being and life,--that is to
say, an affirming and also a relative negating of our separate
individuality, an active and a passive element. Both are equally true
and important; the one calls for the other, and either, taken
separately for itself, would be untrue; the two must exist in harmony
and unity. The passive phase--the emphasizing of the being of God in
the presence of which individual being retires into the background and
appears only as conditioned and dependent--is the religious phase of
the spiritual life; the active phase--that is, the emphasizing of the
personal element by virtue of which man appears, as an initiative actor
with the mission, as a free personality, of carrying farther forward in
the spiritual sphere the creative work of God--is the moral phase. The
religious life is, so to speak, centripetal; moral life, as radiating
out from the middle-point, is centrifugal; the former corresponds, in
the spiritual life, to the functions of the veins of the body; the
latter is more like the arteries, which, receiving from the lungs,
through the heart, the vitalized out-gushing blood, distribute it
nourishingly and productively through the body, and ramify themselves
out toward the periphery, whereas the veins conduct it back from the
outermost ramifications toward the center. In correspondence to this
figure, the separate outgoings of the moral life are more manifold than
are the center-seeking manifestations of the religious life. Hence
piety, by its very nature, tends to a communion of pious
life-expression, to the social worship of God; but in morality the
person comes into prominence more in his self-dependent individuality:
in the sphere of morality, moral communion rests more on the moral
individuals; in that of piety, the pious personality rests more upon
pious communion and upon the spirit which inspires this communion. In
the moral sphere, Christ says to the individual: "Go thou and do
likewise;" in that of religion he says: "Where two or three are
gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." Secret
prayer does not conflict with this, for it is only one phase of piety;
the piety of the recluse is simply morbid.
Religious life is only then genuine when it is at the same time also
moral,--when it does not in Pantheistico-mystical wise dissolve and
merge the individual into God; the one-sidedly religious life which
lightly esteems outward morality entangles itself inevitably in this
quietistic renunciation of personality. Moral life is healthy only when
it is at the same time also religious,--when the person does not assume
to live and act as an isolated being from an unconditioned autonomy of
its own independently of God; it is, however, as distinguished from the
religious life, essentially a virtualizing of liberty. The one-sidedly
moral life, that is, the attempt to virtualize personal freedom without
religion, leads to the reverse of the morally-religious life--to
haughtiness of personality as of an absolutely independent power, to an
atheistic idolizing of the creature, and, in practice, to a throwing
off of all obligation that conflicts with personal enjoyment. The moral
life is therefore true and good only when the virtualization of the
freedom and independence of the person is rational, that is,
essentially religious; and it becomes morally evil so soon as it
asserts its freedom as unconditioned and apart from God.
Piety and morality consequently mutually condition each other,--develop
themselves in no other way than in union with each other. It is true,
the first beginning of the religiously-moral life is, in so far; the
religious phase, as all religion rests upon a revelation of God to man,
that is, upon a receiving, and not upon a personal doing; but this
revelation is only then our- own, the contents of our religious spirit,
when we embrace it in faith, and this embracing is a free, a moral
activity. Hence even the first incipiency of the rational, the
morally-religious life includes in immediate and necessary union both
phases of the same, so that, though in logic we may speak of the one as
being; antecedent to the other, yet in point of reality we cannot so
speak. Should this seem enigmatical to the understanding, still it is
no more enigmatical than is the nature of all and every life-beginning;
and just as little as we can deny the reality of the beginning of man's
natural life, for the reason that it is absolutely hidden and
mysterious--so that we can neither say that the material being of the
same is antecedent to its spiritual power nor the converse,--even so
little can we hope to solve the mystery of the beginning of the
religiously-moral life, by assuming the one or the other of its phases
as the first and fundamental one. The plant, in developing itself out
of its embryo, grows upward and downward almost simultaneously; if it
is insufficiently rooted it fades; if it cannot grow upward it decays;
the sending out of roots corresponds to religion; the development into
foliage and fruit, to morality. Also in the further development of the
rational life these two phases are constantly associated, and in their
associated unity and harmony consists the spiritual health of man. We
are religious in so far as we recognize that God is the unconditioned
ground of our being and moral life; moral, in so far as by our free
life we confess in acts that God is for us the absolute rule of
action,--that we are free accomplishers of the divine will. In
religion, God is for us; in morality, we are for God; in the former God
is manifested to us; in the latter God is manifested in and through us.
"I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me" [Gal. ii, 20]; this is the
essence of Christian morality. "As many as are led by the Spirit of
God, they are the sons of God" [Rom. viii, 14]; that is, religion is
the vitality of morality, and morality the factive life-manifestation
of religion, and consequently of divine sonship. "Fear God and keep his
commandments, for this is the whole duty of man" [Eccl. xii, 13; comp.
Deut. x, 12]; hence the fear of God is the ground and beginning of
moral wisdom; "this is the fear of God, that we keep his commandments"
[1 John v, 3]. According to the uniform tenor of Scripture, religion
and morality go always hand in hand; this is aptly expressed by Luther
in his Catechism: "We should fear and love God, in order that," etc.;
the fear of God necessarily involves the keeping of the commandments,
and this fear is itself of moral character, as is implied by the very
word "should"; "if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door" [Gen.
iv, 7]. Hence the usual Scripture expression for morality is: "to walk
before God" [Gen. xvii, 1; xxiv, 40], that is, to act out of a full
consciousness of the holy and almighty One, in full trust and love to
Him; or: "to walk with God" [Gen. v, 22, 24; vi, 9], to "keep the way
of the Lord" and "do justice and judgment" [Gen. xviii, 19], "to walk
in God's ways," "to serve the Lord" and "to keep his commandments and
statutes" [Deut. x, 12]; and God's exhortation to the progenitor of the
Israelites is: "I am the Almighty God, [therefore] walk before me and
be thou perfect" [Gen. xvii, 1].
The glorifying of God in religion and morality is the completing of his
glorification in nature. In religion, God permits the man who comes
into living communion with Him, to behold his glory; in morality God
permits men to show forth his glory--to let their light shine before
others that they also may praise the Father in heaven. The will of God
in creation was not as yet fulfilled at the conclusion of the creative
act. "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness," --but this
image is God-like, not in its mere being, but only in its rational,
moral life. God created the world for rational creatures, in order that
for them and through them his image might be manifested in
creation,--that is to say, in the interest of moral development. Hence
sin is treachery against God, an infringement on his honor. Morality
looks to the honor, not of man, but of God; it is per se a serving of
God, and all divine service or worship is a moral act.
The relation of religion to morality is often stated quite differently
from the view here presented. The more important of these views are the
following four:
(1) Religion and morality are totally identical. In developing this
view, the one is necessarily reduced to the other. (a) Morality is
entirely merged into religion--the view of all consistent mysticism;
man has nothing to do but to give himself entirely over to God; and
wisdom consists not in acting, but, on the contrary, in renouncing all
practical activity (Eckart, Tauler, Molinos). (b) Religion is entirely
merged into morality. Morality is directly in and of itself true
religion; to be moral is identical with being pious; outside of virtue.
there is no piety which is not only not simply associated with virtue,
but which is not, in fact, itself virtue;--the view of the
worldly-minded in general, and, particularly, of the "illuminism" of
the eighteenth century.
(2) Religion and morality are in their entire nature radically
different, and hence entirely independent of each other; the one may
exist without the other. This is the view of all the naturalistic
systems of recent date. It is at once refuted by the simple fact that
the different religions have given rise to correspondingly different
systems of morality.--In approximation to this view, Rothe affirms
(Ethik, I, Seite, 191, sqq.) at least a predominant non-dependence of
the two spheres on each other.
His position is as follows:--Morality and piety, while not entirely
different, are yet relatively independent and self-based. Each has
indeed a certain relation to the other, and there is no morality which
is not, in some degree, also piety; both have the same root, namely,
the personality; but the two form, nevertheless, independent branches
strictly coetaneous. The consciousness of this relative independence of
morality belongs among the inalienable conquests of recent
culture,--namely, the consciousness that an individual human life may
be relatively determined by the idea of the moral, nay, even by the
idea of the morally good, or, more definitely, by the idea of human
dignity and of humanity, without at the same time being determined by
the idea of God,--and indeed in such a manner that it shall possess
this idea of the moral as not derived to it from the idea of God. The
Christian moralist cannot refuse to recognize this consciousness. The
misconception, that morality can rest on no other basis than the
religious relation, would at once vanish, could moralists determine to
keep distinct the moral sensu medio, from the morally-good. For, that
there can be moral evil on a basis other than a religious one, will of
course be questioned by none. It is true, when strictly understood or
comprehended, the idea of the moral cannot arise apart from the idea of
God.--These last two statements of Rothe undermine his entire position;
for the question here is not at all as to evil, but exclusively as to
the morally-good; and it is hardly possible that any one would argue
thus: Because evil can exist without religion, therefore also the good
can exist without religion. Moreover, in admitting that without
religion man can be morally-good only relatively, but not truly, Rothe
implicitly admits also that morality is in fact not a something
existing alongside of religion and in real independency of it;
consequently the above-assumed morality that is independent of
religion, is but mere appearance.
(3) Religion is the first, the basis, also in point of time; while
morality is the second, the sequence. This is the most usual, also
ecclesiastical, view; and as applied to Christian morality it is also
undoubtedly correct, since here the question is as to being redeemed
from a presupposed immoral state; in which case, of course, the
religious back-ground forms the basis of the renewal, from which, as a
starting-point, the moral will, in general, must rise to freedom.
Where, however, the moral life does not presuppose a spiritual
regeneration, there no moment of the religious life is conceivable in
which it does not also contain in itself the moral element,--thus
absolutely precluding the idea of a precedency of one to the other;
moreover, even in the spiritual regeneration of the sinner, the process
of being morally laid hold upon by the sanctifying Spirit of God,
issues directly into a willing, and hence moral, laying hold upon the
offered grace of God.
(4) Morality is the first, the basis, while religion is the second, the
sequence, also in point of time; the moral consciousness of the
practical reason is the ground upon which the God-consciousness springs
up;--so taught the school of Kant, and in part, also, Rationalism. This
view, in its practical application, coincides largely with that one
which merges the religious into the moral. It is true, appeal is made
to the passage in John vii, 7: "If any one will do his will," etc.;
here, however, the question is not as to the religious consciousness in
general, but as to the recognition of Christ as the Messenger of God.
But whoever purposes to do the will of God, must have a consciousness
of God already.
From the intimate unity of religion and morality, which we have
insisted upon, results readily the solution of the question, as to how
and whence we can have a knowledge of the moral condition of humanity
as pure and unfallen. The sources of a knowledge of religion are at the
same time, also, the sources of an acquaintance with morality; and
religion throws light not only upon what has transpired and now is,
since the fall, but also upon what preceded all sin. Thus we have for
morality in general, as well as for the consideration of morality
irrespectively of sin, the following sources of information:--l. The
rational, morally-religious human consciousness, both as it is yet
extant even in the natural man, and also, as it is enlightened by
divine grace in the redeemed.--2. The historical revelation of God in
the Old and New Testaments. Although as bearing upon the moral sphere
Revelation relates predominantly to the actual sinful condition of
humanity, yet it contains also, at the same time, the holy will of God
to man per se. The moral law of Christ, "Thou shalt love thy God,"
etc., is in fact absolutely valid, not only for such as are as yet
implicated in sin, but also for man per se, and irrespectively of sin;
moreover, it is not difficult for the Christian who has become
acquainted with the divine economy of grace to distinguish, in the
divine precepts, that which is intended for the chastening and
discipline of the sinner, from that which is morally binding per
se.--3. From the personal example of Him who knew no sin, from the holy
humanity of the Redeemer.--So much here merely preliminarily.
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III. SCIENTIFIC CLASSIFICATION OF ETHICS.
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SECTION LVI. Scientific Classification of Ethics.
The usual distribution of the subject-matter of ethics into the
doctrine of goods, of virtues, and of duties, does not answer the
nature of this science, as these are not different parts of the whole,
but only different modes of contemplating one and the same
thing,--modes which are so intimately involved in each other, that such
a classification inevitably involves, on the one hand, an unnatural
severing of the subject-matter, and, on the other, manifold repetitions
of the same thought. All the various articulations of this science into
the mere discussion of virtues, duties, and goods, according to the
different classes and subdivisions of particular virtues, duties, and
goods, come short of exhausting the subject-matter, and must therefore
involve the throwing of other important ethical considerations into an
introduction or some other subordinate position.
Among the various classifications of the matter of ethics, the
above-mentioned is in recent times the more usual; it is adopted by
Schleiermacher, though only in his Philosophical Ethics, and it is
applied by Rothe to Theological Ethics also. In both of these writers,
the importance of such a classification lies in the thought of the
working of reason upon nature, in which morality is by them made to
consist. The goal of this working, namely, the positive harmony of
nature and reason, is the good; the power of reason which works this
good, is virtue; the mode of procedure for working the good, the
directing of the activity toward it, is duty. [3] This view,
irrespectively of the so-strongly emphasized thought of Rothe, of the
good as a harmony of (material) nature and reason,--which is utterly
inapplicable to Christian morality,--is in fact valid also for
Christian ethics (Schwarz). In Christ's words: "Seek ye first the
kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things [temporal
goods] shall be added unto you" [Matt. vi, 33], are comprehended both
the highest good and the single goods, duty and virtue,--the latter
being embraced in "righteousness," though righteousness is indeed more
than virtue. There is a difference between the goal to be reached, the
way or movement toward it, and the power of the subject which
conditions this movement; still it does not follow from this that the
entire subject-matter of ethics can be organically and exclusively
distributed on this basis. The antithesis of duties and goods could be
most easily carried out, since the producing activity and the produced
result are clearly distinguishable. But even here the difficulty
arises, that true good, and hence, of course, also happiness (as
Aristotle very justly remarks), is not an inert result but an activity;
but every activity, if it is rational, must be the expression of a
moral idea, the realizing of a duty; so that we are brought to the at
first strange-seeming conclusion, that dutiful acting is itself a part
of the being and essence of the good,--is in one respect itself a good.
The family, the church, the state, etc., are goods; but these all are
conditioned not merely on dutiful acting,--they themselves are a purely
moral life,--consist, strictly speaking, in a collectivity of moral
actions, although not solely therein. If we once abstract these
actions, there remains neither family nor state nor church; these are
not mere empty spaces in which moral acting takes place, but they are
themselves incessantly generated by this acting, and without it would
not exist,--just as the fiery ring of a revolved torch is not an entity
per se, but exists alone by virtue of the motion. Hence the visible
embarrassment of the ethical writers in question as to where they shall
treat, for example, of family and political duties, whether under the
head of duties proper or of goods.--Still more embarrassing is it in
the discussion of the virtues. That virtue is per se a good, being an
end to be acquired by moral effort, is perfectly evident, and is so
admitted by Schleiermacher (Werke, III, 2, 459); also in the
above-cited utterance of Christ, righteousness appears as a goal of
effort, as an element of the essence of the kingdom of God [comp. Phil.
iv, 8]; we aim at virtue, and we possess virtues; but every possession
is a good. Now as goods are of course not merely objective,--as indeed
the highest good of Christians, the possession of the kingdom of God,
comes not with outward observation but is of a strictly inward
character [Luke xvii, 20, 21],--hence it is plain that virtue is also a
good; as indeed the kingdom of God consists "in power" [1 Cor. iv, 20],
and hence by its very nature includes in itself virtue. Hence the
doctrine of goods cannot be discussed without treating also of virtue.
On the other hand, a merely dormant power is in reality nothing at all;
the reality of a power is its outgoing,--the reality of virtue is moral
action, that is, the fulfilling of duty. It is not possible, therefore,
to discuss the virtues without at the same time treating of all the
duties, and vice versa. Hence the distribution of ethics
above-mentioned can be adhered to only so long as the discussion
lingers in generalities and avoids the particular.
Schleiermacher and Rothe, in fact, admit that the three divisions,
goods, virtues, and duties, are not, in reality, different parts of,
but only a three-fold manner of viewing, the same object,--yet in such
a manner that in each of the three the other two are included, if not
expressly, at least substantially. The doctrine of goods, of virtues or
of duties, embraces, either of them, according to Schleiermacher, when
fully developed, the whole of ethics (Syst., p. 76 sqq.). The
classification in question can therefore be carried out only by
arbitrarily leaving some of the divisions imperfectly discussed.
Particular goods, says Rothe, do not spring from the working of a
particular virtue and through the fulfilling of a particular duty, but
on the contrary no single one is realized otherwise than through the
co-working of all the virtues and through the fulfilling of all the
duties, and each single virtue contributes to the realization of all
the goods, and is conditioned on the fulfilling of all the duties, and
each particular virtue contributes in turn to every dutiful manner of
action (i, 202). Irrespectively of the fact that the latter
declarations are too sweeping,--seeing that, for example, the family
may often exist as a good without the virtue of courage, of industry,
etc., and that courage may exist apart from the fulfillment of the
family duties, etc.,--still it is quite evident that if either of the
three divisions in question were really and completely, and not merely
in general, carried out, there would remain nothing for the other
divisions save a few general observations. The family, for example, is
a good only in so far as it has domestic love for its basis, and, in
point of fact, Rothe treats of domestic love among the goods; but what
remains then to be said of it in treating of the virtues and duties?
The remarkable scantiness of Schleiermacher's discussion of duties is
itself evidence of an erroneous classification. And Rothe obtains for
his discussion of duties (in fact confessedly finds any occasion
whatever therefor) simply because, as he says, reference is there to be
had to sin, so that the discussion of duties becomes essentially the
portrayal of struggle. But this admission destroys the very basis of
the classification;--were it not for sin, a discussion of duties would
not be possible, whereas the basis of this classification has not the
least reference to sin. If Schleiermacher, after speaking, in his first
part, of chastity and unchastity, had then in his second part spoken of
chastity as among the virtues,--which his plan required of him, but
which he does not do--and in his third part fully discussed the duties
of chastity, then in order to carry out his classification he would
have had to reiterate the same matter three times.--Rothe speaks in
very strong expressions against those who do not adopt this
classification, affirming that all previous ethical teaching and
phraseology have been erroneous, and have ignored the fact that even
every-day parlance makes a difference between being virtuous and acting
dutifully;--as if common usage does not, just as frequently and just as
correctly, speak also of acting virtuously and being true to duty!
Oddly enough it seems, in the face of this so-deemed "imperishable
desert" of Schleiermacher in regard to this classification, that
Schleiermacher himself--clearer-sighted here than Rothe--does not apply
it to his own Christian Ethics; and not only that, but he even declares
it inadmissable here,--seeing that a description of virtue and a
description of the kingdom of God as the highest good, cannot possibly
be kept separate, inasmuch as virtue is simply a "habitus" generated by
the Holy Spirit as indwelling in the kingdom of God; nor can Christian
ethics, in his opinion, be treated under the-head of duties, seeing
that no one duty can be discussed save in and with the totality of all
the duties, and hence in connection with the idea of the kingdom of God
(Chr. Sitte., p. 77 sqq.). And the same might also be said against the
application of this classification to Philosophical Ethics.
If this classification of general ethics into the doctrines of goods,
of virtues and of duties, is practically untenable, much more is it
inapplicable to Christian Ethics, since it lacks one essential
Christian thought, that of the divine law. Schleiermacher presented no
discussion of the law, as he wrote wholly irrespectively of the idea of
God; and for this reason alone his classification would be inapplicable
to Christian Ethics. For duty is not identical with the law. The law is
objective, duty subjective; the law is the moral idea per se in its
definite form, as thought, as universally valid--the will of God in
general; duty is the subjective realization of the law for a particular
individual under particular circumstances,--relates per se always to
the strictly particular, the actual. The law is valid always, and under
all circumstances; duty varies largely according to time and
circumstances; the very same mode of action which is to-day my duty,
may be to-morrow, contrary to my duty;--to-day my duty is silence,
to-morrow I must speak. The law is categorical, duty is usually
hypothetical; the former is the expression of divine morality, the
latter of human. So also is the relation of goods to virtue; the former
are more the general, objective phase; the latter is more the
particular, personal, subjective phase; virtue is the subjective
possession of a moral power the product of which is objective good. In
the Old Testament the moral life-movement went over from the divine
objective will, namely, the law, to the human subject in order to bring
the latter into possession of the highest good; in the Christian world
the moral life-movement goes out from the subject as being already in
union with God, and already in possession of the everlasting good, and
directs itself to the objective realization of God-like being,--from
the inward possession of the kingdom of God to the objective
manifestation and realization of the same.
Of other scientific classifications, we will say but little. The older
popular division of the subject-matter of ethics according to the Ten
Commandments, was a form very well adapted for popular Christian
instruction, and, indeed, by giving a large construction to the more
immediate scope of these commandments, it admits of the treatment of
all evangelically-ethical thoughts: it does not, however, suffice for a
scientific development of Christian ethics, seeing that this series of
commands was constructed primarily for merely practical purposes; very
essential points, such as the moral essence of man and of the good, and
(as parts of the latter) of the state and the church, would have to be
thrown into introductory or collateral remarks.--The classification
according to our duties to God, to our neighbor, and to ourselves,
while in fact embracing the whole circle of duties, yet requires
likewise too much of the essential matter to be thrown into an
introduction.--Harless makes the divisions, the good itself, the
possession of the good, and the preservation of the good; but by "good"
he understands rather the antecedent condition than the goal of the
moral life; by "possession," more the obtaining and preserving of the
possession; and by "preservation," rather its actual manifestation.
This, as well as Schleiermacher's theological classification, relates
only to distinctively Christian ethics.--A very common classification
is, into general and special ethics,--the latter treating of the
special circumstances and relations of the moral life; but such a
system can be carried out without violence only when the first division
is reduced to a mere general introduction.
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[3] Schleirm. Syst., p. 71 sqq.; Grundlinien, 1803, p. 175 sqq; Ueb. d.
Begriff des hoechsten Gutes, Werke III, 2, 447 sqq. Comp. S:. 48.
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SECTION LVII. Scientific Classification of Ethics. (Concl'd)
Morality is life, and hence, activity or movement, and more definitely,
rationally-free movement. Herein lie three things: the subject that
moves, the end toward which the movement goes out, and the
movement-activity itself. The subject goes out from its immediate
condition of being per se, through movement, over into another
condition which lies before it as an end. But the moral subject is not
a mere isolated individual; on the contrary, it is the freely
self-developing image of God as the primitive ground and prototype of
all morality, and it lives only in virtue of constant inner-communion
with God. The holily-ruling God becomes, as distinguished from man, the
eternal, holy proto-subject of the moral life; and there is no moment
of the moral life in which the human subject, strictly per se and
without God's cooperation, works the good.--The goal toward which the
moral movement directs itself is also of a twofold character. Man finds
himself already in the presence of an objective world different from
himself; and even where he makes himself his own object, this, his
reality, is, primarily, a gift conferred upon him without any moral
action on his own part; this conferred existence (world and self) is
the working-sphere of his moral activity--the most immediate object and
end of the same. But man is not, in his activity, to throw himself away
upon this objective world-to merge himself into it--but he is to shape
it by his own power, and in harmony with the moral idea,--to male the
possibility of the good into real good, to realize a spiritual end in
and through the objective world. Hence the goal of the moral activity
is to be considered under two phases: (a) As a pure object untouched as
yet by the moral activity,--as a mere platform, as material given for
the moral activity in order to be spiritually dominated by this
activity so as to become a spiritually and morally formed real good.
(b) This object itself as morally fashioned, as having become a
good,--existing primarily only as an idea, a rational purpose, but
afterward as a result of moral activity, as a fruit realized,--that is
the ideal goal proper, or the end of the moral activity. In the first
case, the object is, for the moral activity, a directly-given reality,
but it is not to remain as such; in the second case it is primarily not
real, but exists only in thought, but it is ultimately to become a
reality expressive of the thought.--The third phase of the moral
movement, namely, the moral activity itself, is, as spiritually free,
likewise of a twofold character; on the one hand, it is to be
considered from its subjective side, that is, in respect to how it is
rooted in the subject himself, and from him issues forth,--the
subjective motive of the moral activity, the source of the stream; on
the other hand, it is to be considered as a life-stream, sent forth
from the subject and directed upon the object,--that is, the activity
proper itself as having become real and objective in its progressive
development toward the attained goal in which it ends.
The subject-matter of ethics falls, therefore, into the following
subdivisions:
1. The moral subject, purely in and of itself considered.
2. God as the objective ground of the moral life and of the moral law,
and also as the prototype of the moral idea, and as co-working in the
moral life.
3. The given objective existence upon which, as material to be
fashioned, the moral activity exerts itself.
4. The subjective ground of the moral activity, the personal motive to
morality.
5. The moral working or acting itself, the moral life-movement toward
the moral goal.
6. The conceived object of the moral activity, its goal or end,--the
good as an object to be realized.
While Dogmatics sets out most naturally from the thought of God, Ethics
takes its start from man, the moral subject, inasmuch as morality in
its totality is simply the rational life-development of man,--God
coming into consideration here not so much in his character as Creator
as rather in that of a Lawgiver and righteously-ruling Governor. Should
we, however, divorce Ethics entirely from Dogmatics, we would, of
course, have to preface the moral discussion of man by a presentation
of the doctrine of God.
The idea of the moral subject, of the rational personality, is the
foundation-thought of ethics,--the root out of which all the other
branches spring. But man is a morally rational person only in so far as
he conceives of himself, not as an isolated individual, but as
conditioned by the divine reason and the divine holiness. Hence the
idea of the moral personality leads out beyond itself to the thought of
God, as the eternal fountain and the measure of morality, as the holy
and just Lawgiver; the prototypal relation of God to the moral has its
personally-historical manifestation in Christ, the Son of God; the
moral idea becomes in Christ an actually-realized ideal. The doctrine
of the moral law belongs not in the sphere of the human subject, but in
that of the divine, for the law is not man's but God's will.
In the notion of the moral subject considered as an individual being,
there lies implicitly also the notion of an objective world different
from the same. Morality, as active life, has this world before it as
its theater of effort; the activity in its outgoing comes into contact
with a reality independent of itself, which, though because of the
unity of creation it is not antagonistic to the subject, is
nevertheless primarily foreign to the same, and not in any wise imbued
with or dominated by it. But to be a spirit, implies in itself the
dominating of the unspiritual, the entering into harmony with all that
is spiritual. It is the task of the moral subject to bring about this
domination and this harmony. Moreover, in so far as man finds himself
in a simply given, and not as yet spiritually-dominated and cultivated
condition, he becomes to himself his own object, his moral activity
being directed upon himself.
The modifying activity as exerted upon this given existence is not,
however, of a purposeless character, but it has before it, in the
rational end, an ideal object the realizing of which is to be effected
by the activity as moral. In an ethical discussion which follows the
actual order of the moral life, this moral activity will have to be
considered first, although with constant reference to the moral end.
This activity, as a spiritual outgoing from the subject, has, on the
one hand, its fountain in the moral subject, on the other, it has also
a development-course as a stream. Each is to be considered separately,
so that we have here again two subdivisions. The consideration of the
subjective origin or ground of the moral activity--its motive,--has to
do with the why. The existence of the law and the encountering of an
external world by the subject, do not suffice to explain why man should
enter upon a course of moral activity; there must be found, as
distinguished from these, a motive in the subject himself that prompts
directly to moral activity,--that sets the subject into movement. The
mere "should" is not enough to move us; we may remain indifferent and
emotionless in the presence of every "categorical imperative" and of
every, however well-grounded, command; if there is not some impulse to
activity within us, all and every command will fall back powerless from
us; and this impulse must be of a rationally-free, a moral character.
The moral activity itself, which is occasioned by this inner motive, is
to be considered primarily only in its essence and in its general forms
of manifestation, and it involves only the general, but not the
special, discussion of the doctrine of duties. By far the largest scope
of special activity comes under the last division of our
classification; for the true essence and real worth of moral good lies
in the fact that it is not a dormant possession, but that, on the
contrary, it unfolds continuously new and richer life,--just as a
natural fruit is not simply a product in which the life of the plant
ends, but is also the germ of a new life;--with this difference,
however, that the fruit of the moral activity is not merely the germ of
a new life that simply repeats its former self, but rather of an
enriched, spiritually-heightened life. In the attained moral good the
moral life-movement rises to a new, higher circulation; the person in
possession of this good has become richer,--is a spiritually
higher-developed personality; the previously existing moral-subject has
become more exalted and spiritualized,--is, in fact, the already
attained moral good itself; and the moral activity gains thereby ampler
and more ennobled contents; with the acquired good springs up new duty.
In elucidation of the classification we have given, compare the
passages Deut. x, 12 sqq.; xi, 1 sqq.; xii, 1 sqq. Here we may consider
as the moral subject the people of Israel,--the moral mission and
activity of whom cannot possibly be understood save in the light of
their historically-moral peculiarity. Jehovah is the sovereign,
requiring moral obedience to his will; the people's sinful hearts [x,
16], the heathen country and inhabitants [x, 19; xi, 10 sqq.; xii, 2
sqq.], and the national life of the Israelites, form the sphere. the
theater, of the moral activity; thankful love to the merciful,
longsuffering God is the moral motive [x, 15, 21 sqq.]; willing
obedience, the walking in the ways of God, is the moral activity; and
the approbation of God and his blessings are the moral end [x, 13-15;
xi, 8 sqq.; xii, 7 sqq.].
In consideration of the thought that there lies at the basis of all
moral activity an end to which the activity directs itself, it might
seem more correct to consider this end, namely, the good, before
discussing the moral activity itself; however, on the other hand, as
the realization of the good presupposes the moral activity, and as we
are to consider the good not as simply conceived, but as realized, and,
inasmuch as out of the realization of one good a new field of moral
activity arises in turn before us, hence it is clearly more natural, in
fact, to place the discussion of the end or the good (as being actually
the last in the order of the moral development) in the last place; for,
it is in fact quite evident, that we cannot speak of the family, the
church, and the state, without having first examined the moral activity
per se. To begin with the discussion of the good would be the so-called
"analytical method," whereas ours, on the contrary, is the
"synthetic;"--the course of the former is, so to speak, retrogressive;
while the latter proceeds forward, more in the actual course of the
moral development, and hence is the more natural.
The first three subdivisions of our classification embrace, it is true,
only the antecedent conditions of the moral activity itself; but it
does not follow from this that their subject-matter is to be thrown
into an introduction. Free rational life, as an object of ethics,
cannot be treated as a mere activity without taking into consideration
also the active subject, as well as the law by which the subject is
governed, and the field upon which it acts; he who describes vegetable
life, must surely speak also of the organs of plants. In any case, a
controversy as to whether this consideration forms only an introduction
to the subject-matter, or is a part of the subject-matter itself, would
be very unprofitable.
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CHAPTER I.
THE MORAL SUBJECT.
SECTION LVIII. The Moral Subject.
THE moral subject is the personal spirit, in a stricter sense, the
created spirit. Between the different grades of spiritual beings, there
is, in respect to the moral life-task, no essential difference; and,
hence, for the individual spirit, the life-task never comes to a
definitive close. The basis of the moral life is the individual moral
person; but in so far as a plurality of persons constitute themselves
into a spiritual life-whole, such a collective totality becomes also
itself a moral subject with a peculiar moral task.
In the widest sense of the moral thought, even God himself, as the holy
One, is a moral subject. But in so far as ethics has regard not to an
absolutely infinite, eternal Being and life, but to a task
accomplishing itself in time, it considers only the created spirit as a
subject of morality. But all created personal spirits without exception
are moral subjects, and that too with an individual task that never
comes to a close; the blessed spirits, angels included, have not only,
like earthly men, constantly to accomplish morality, but so soon as we
leave sin out of view as an abnormal reality, their moral task is
essentially the same as that of man; and Schleiermacher is wrong in
limiting moral acting, and hence also ethics, to the, as yet, militant
life, and in excluding them from the perfected life of the blessed
(Syst., p. 51, 61). Unless we are to conceive the blessed as
spiritually dead, then they must have a life-activity answering to the
divine will,--that is, a moral one. Were this not the case, then
Christ's holy life would be moral only so long as he had to do with an
opposing world; and only the earthly, but not the glorified, Christ, as
also not the saints in heaven, could be looked upon as moral examples
for us. It is true, the manifestation-form of the morality of a blessed
spirit will be different from that of the yet militant; nevertheless
the essence remains the same.
The distinguishing of the moral collective subject from the individual
subject is a point of essential importance; for, the moral activity of
the two is by no means the same. For the member of a moral community,
there arise special moral duties that fall to him, not as a moral
individual but as an organic member of a whole, and which he is to
fulfill not in his own name but in that of the totality. The action of
the individual is, of course, the first, the presupposition of the
other; the moral community is always the fruit of a precedent moral
activity of the individuals,--is itself a realized-good, which,
however, at once becomes in turn itself a morally-active subject,
unless indeed it is to cease to be.
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I. THE INDIVIDUAL MORAL SUBJECT, MAN.
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SECTION LIX. Man as a Spirit.
Man as created after God's image is, as spiritualized nature, both
spirit and nature, and also the real unity of the two.
A. As a spirit he is a rationally-free, self-determining being,
attaining to his full, peculiar reality through free activity. The
basis and essence of this spirituality is personal self-consciousness.
Only in so far as man is self-conscious can he be moral, and by virtue
of this self-consciousness he is answerable for his life,--his life
becomes to him a moral one, and is counted to him. But he is conscious
of himself as a personal individual, that is, he distinguishes himself
from others not merely by his being, but by a to him
exclusively-peculiar, determined being,--by his peculiar personality,
which in this peculiarity does not belong to him directly from nature,
but is acquired only by personal, moral activity, and hence constitutes
character-peculiarity. The individual being of man is distinguished
from that of nature-objects by the fact that it has inherent in itself,
as an inner rational power, the destination not to remain a mere
individual unit, but to become a personality,--in a word, man is from
the very beginning not a mere specimen of his species, but is called to
become a peculiarly-determined being.
The Christian idea of man is summed up in the thought of the image of
God, and hence presupposes dogmatically the development of the idea of
God. The great emphasis which is laid in Scripture on this idea of
God-likeness [Gen. i, 26, 27; ix, 6; 1 Cor. xi, 7; James iii, 9; Col.
iii, 10; Acts xvii, 28, 29] shows of itself that we have not to do here
with a mere poetic figure. All that is created is good,--is an
expression of the divine will, and hence is an image of the divine
thought; but the rational creature, as the crown of creation, is the
most complete expression of this goodness,--is the image of God, bears
upon itself the most perfect impress of the Creator. Now as God is
essentially a spirit, hence, man is God's image more immediately only
as a rational spirit, whereas the body merely bears on itself, like
other nature-objects, the trace of the Creator, but not his perfect
impress, and it becomes an image of God only, mediately,--namely, in so
far as it is progressively transfigured by the spirit into its own
perfect expression. In the Scriptures Christ is called by pre-eminence,
the true image of God; but man is called to become like this image
[Rom. viii, 29]. Christ is this image not merely as the eternal Son of
God, but also and especially as the true Son of Man, who historically
and visibly reveals the divine [Col. i, 15]; and as such he is the
"first-born among many brethren."
The rational spirit stands in contrast to mere nature-existence. A
nature-entity determines not itself, but is determined by a
nature-force not lying within its own consciousness,--is even in its
activity predominantly unfree, whereas that which constitutes the
essence of spirit is, to be free, to determine itself in its
peculiarity, to be active toward conscious ends. The brute has not
purposes, but only impulses. There is indeed reason in the brute; the
brute does not, however, have the reason, but the reason has the brute.
The reason that is in nature is only objective rationality; whereas
spirit is a subject possessing reason as a consciousness. This
consciousness is rational, however, only as self-consciousness, wherein
man becomes to himself a real object,--comes into spiritual
self-possession, and in this self-possession distinguishes himself from
all other objective beings. By virtue of self-consciousness man remains
ever in the presence of himself, and at one with himself; and only in
virtue of this continuous sameness of the personal spirit, is it
morally responsible.
But a spirit is more than a mere numerical individual; nature-creatures
differ from others of their species, not by essential peculiarities but
by their mere separate being and by outward fortuitous
determinations,--are mere essentially-similar specimens of the same
kind, mere repetitions of the same existence. But each individual
personal spirit has, as distinguished from other personal spirits, a
determined peculiarity of its own, which raises it from a mere
numerical existence into a determined personality. In
self-consciousness man knows himself not merely as a man, but as this
particularly-determined man. He bears, therefore, a personal name, the
significance of which is, that it is his destination to be something
different from others,--to possess in his being something which others
neither have nor can have in the same manner. The name is, with man as
well as with God, an expression of personal peculiarity--of that which
inwardly distinguishes one determined personality from others [Exod.
xxxiii, 12, 17; Isa. xliii, 1; xlv, 3, 4; lvi, 5; John x, 3; Rev. iii,
5]; this personal peculiarity the spirit does not have from nature, nor
yet is it generated by merely natural development; but the child has
from the very beginning the capacity for, and hence the destination
unto, such a personality-constituting peculiarity; nor is this capacity
a merely conceived possibility, on the contrary it is a real germ; but
this germ can come to development only by moral activity. This germ of
personality which lies in the very essence of the rational spirit does
not contain within itself the determined peculiarity; it simply
requires development, but as to how, and unto what peculiarity it
becomes developed, that depends on the free moral activity of the
person himself. That this personal peculiarity does not come from
nature, but belongs to the life of the free spirit, is clearly implied
in the custom, prevalent among almost all nations and tribes, of
name-giving. Nature gives to man at birth his individual existence; the
spiritually and historically formed society, or family, gives to him
his personal name,--designating thereby either the goal of this
personality or its already acquired peculiarity [Gen. iii, 20; iv, 25;
v, 29; xxi, 3; xli, 51, 52; Matt. i, 25; Luke i, 60, etc.].
This thought of the moral quality of the personality is not so
uncontested as might be supposed. Schleiermacher, in his Philosophical
Ethics, [4] holds that moral individualities differ primitively, before
all moral activity, and hence do not merely become different. While
preceding moral systems, and especially that of Kant, either overlooked
the special peculiarity of the person, or even ignored it as something
illegitimate, Schleiermacher emphasizes justly enough the moral
significancy of this peculiarity, but lie also rushes to the opposite
one-sidedness, and magnifies the difference into a primitive,
determined, ante-moral one,--a sort of moral atomistics, which, in
order to escape the difficulty of the notion of free
self-determination, assumes a much greater incomprehensibility. In a
system, sprung up from essentially Pantheistic soil, this view is not
inconsequential, inasmuch as here the notion of a really free
self-determination is out of the question; but at the same time also
the notion of moral personality is precluded, and ethics is reduced to
a presentation, not of how man as a free individual should conform
himself to a moral idea, but of how he must develop himself in his
strictly naturally-determined idiosyncrasy. But a spirit that is
absolutely determined by the All (conceived here as strictly
impersonal) could not essentially differ from a mere nature-creature;
even brutes have unfree spirituality. We admit that men, even had they
not sinned, would not have manifested perfect similarity, but would
have been in some respects differently attuned from nature itself,--as,
for example, in the peculiarities of sex, of temperament and of
nationality, (see S: 67,) but these natural differences affect not the
personal essence itself,--do not make of the individual a being
strictly personally-different from all others, but are only different
traits of entire clans or groups,--are not so much differences of
individuals as of races. The fact that in the present condition of
mankind, each individual has inborn within him the germ of determined
moral peculiarities, of particular vices and the like, is simply a
result of his illegitimate abnormal state, and is very far from
justifying us in merely cultivating and developing our inborn
peculiarities. But Schleiermacher is very erroneous when he regards
this original difference, even in spiritual and moral respects, as
something necessary and contributive to the aesthetic beauty of the
All,--as, for example, when he says: "Some [of the phases of humanity]
are the most sublime and striking expression of the beautiful and the
divine; others are grotesque products of the most original and fleeting
whim of a master-hand; . . . why should we despise that which throws
into relief the chief groups, and gives life and fullness to the whole?
Is it not befitting that the single heavenly forms should be glorified
by the fact that thousands of others bow themselves before them?
Undying humanity is unweariedly busy in reproducing itself and in
manifesting itself under the greatest variety of manner in the
transitory phenomena of finite life. Such is the harmony of the
universe, such the great and wonderful simplicity in its eternal
art-work. What indeed were the monotonous reiteration of a beau ideal
in which, after all, the individuals would be (time and circumstances
substracted) strictly like each other-the same formula with the
coefficients varied?--what were such a monotony in comparison with this
infinite variety of human peculiarities? . . . This individual appears
as the rude animal part of humanity, affected only by the first
infantile instincts of the race; that other one, as the finest
sublimated spirit, free from all that is common and unworthy, and with
light wing rising above the earth;--but all are there in order to show,
by their existence, how the various forces of human nature operate
separately and in detail." (Reden, 2 ed., p. 130 sqq.). Such language
outdoes even the Greek distinction of man into barbarous and free-men,
and is, as a consistent expression of a purely naturalistic view of the
world, in most direct antagonism to the Christian thought of a moral
world-order upheld by a holy God.--Rothe (Ethik i, S: 120 sqq.) adopts
the view of Schleiermacher in a somewhat different, though less
consistent form.
__________________________________________________________________
[4] System, p. 93 sqq., 157, 172; comp. Christl. Sitte, p. 58 sqq., and
Grundlin. einer Kritik, etc., p. 79 sqq. (2 ed., p. 57); Monologen, 4
Ausg., p. 24 sqq.; Reden, 2. ed., 129.
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SECTION LX. The Cognizing Spirit.
The self-conscious personality unfolds its life under a variety of
forms.--(1) Man is a knowing, a cognoscitive, spirit,--he takes objects
spiritually, that is, according to their idea, into himself, and thus
makes them his enduring possession. The object of knowledge is truth,
and the knowing spirit is capable of attaining thereto. Knowledge is in
itself true and does not deceive, for God's created universe is good,
and hence true and in perfect harmony with itself. As a rational
spirit, man knows not only the created world but also its divine
source,--in fact the essence of rationality consists in the knowledge
of God in his existence, his nature, his government, and his will. This
God-consciousness, resting upon a self-revelation of God to man, is
indeed, as finite knowledge, not capable of thoroughly comprehending
the infinite essence of God, yet, with a full consciousness of its own
limits, it is nevertheless a true, real, and well-grounded knowledge of
the divine, and as such it is the presupposition of morality.
The human spirit is an image of the eternal divine life, though in the
form of a temporal life. God, in his eternal life, is eternally
self-begetting, self-knowing, and self-loving,--absolutely his own
object; and the finite spirit, reflectively manifesting the
life-development of God, has a threefold object upon which its
life-movement is directed, namely, itself, the external world and God.
Man is God's image in this threefold relation,--in willing, in knowing,
and in feeling; but as, primarily, his reality is given to him, as
already existing without his co-operation, hence these three activities
appear in another and chronologically different order of succession, as
knowing, feeling, and willing. Thus the finite spirit knows (takes
cognizance of), feels (loves) and wills both itself, the objective
world and God; and, as the life of a created being is a progressive
development whose spiritual significance lies before it as a goal or
purpose,--as something not as yet fully real, but rather as to be won
by effort,--hence the threefold life of the spirit has also a threefold
end, namely, truth, happiness, and the good; and it is only in the
perfect attaining of this threefold end that the image of God in man
perfects itself,--that the highest good is realized. But as the
perfection of created things consists in the fact that they perfectly
correspond to the divine creative idea, so the perfection of knowledge,
feeling, and willing, and consequently of truth, of happiness, and of
the good, consists in their so relating to God that all finite objects
are known, willed, and loved only in God and as relating to him. God
himself is the truth, the good and love, and whatever falls under this
threefold notion, does so only in so far as it is rooted in and in
harmony with God.
Man, as created good by God, must have the capacity perfectly to attain
to this good state which is divinely proposed to him as his life-goal.
Hence his knowledge cannot be deceptive, but must have the truth as its
contents. The world would not be good, would not be in harmony, if the
intellectual images of objects in the knowing spirit were not true to
the originals,--if the thought as objectively real were essentially
other than the subjective one. What Christ promises to his followers:
"Ye shall know the truth" [John viii, 32], must also be fully
applicable to man per se; redemption is in fact essentially a
restoration of the lost perfection; God wills that all men should "come
unto the knowledge of the truth" [1 Tim. ii, 4]. The destination of man
to know the truth is expressed in Gen. ii, 19, 20. God brought the
beasts to Adam in order "to see what he would call them," that is, how
he would distinguish them from himself and from other objects,--form of
them a definite, generically-characterizing notion; the name is an
expression of the obtained notion;--and whatsoever he severally called
them, "that was the name thereof;"--this is not a mere experiment on
the part of God, but, on the contrary, a divine guaranty for the
truthfulness of human knowledge, and at the same time for the freedom
of the same. God himself brings before man the outer world; thereby he
guarantees to him that his knowledge is legitimate, true, and reliable;
and it is not God who gives names to the objects; man himself does it,
and freely; the knowing (taking cognizance) of the truth is a free, and
hence a moral activity; and this calling by name, this definite,
distinguishing knowing, is sealed by God as truthful,--"that was the
name thereof;" man's free knowing is not to be mere empty play, but to
have a reality as its contents; and the spiritual significance of
things is to find its goal only in its being spiritually appropriated
by man. Our knowledge of the objective world is not to remain a mere
sensuous beholding, as with the brute, but is to rise beyond that stage
into the sphere of ideas; this is for us a moral duty, and one which
has a divine promise. Thus the first man takes cognizance of, and
names, also the woman, his created helpmeet [Gen. ii, 23]; and Eve, as
well as Adam, recognizes the divine will and distinguishes it from her
own as owing obedience to the former [Gen. iii, 2, 3]; in the one case
as well as in the other, there is manifested at the same time a
definite self-consciousness as different from the objective
consciousness.
The relation of our knowledge to God is of course quite different from
its relation to the world. While all worldly being may, as created, be
also ultimately fully known and comprehended by man, on the contrary
the infinite and eternal being and essence of God is, for the
essentially limited human spirit, a thought never fully to be grasped;
and the incomprehensibility of God [Psa. cxlvii, 5; Isa. xl, 28; lv, 8,
9; Job xi, 8; Rom. xi, 33] is a Christian doctrine by no means to be
rejected. But this incomprehensibility does not preclude a very
essential and true knowledge, otherwise were all Godlikeness in man a
mere empty rhetorical phrase. Even as the eye is unable to take in the
entire ocean, and nevertheless has a very definite intuition of its
existence and peculiarities, so likewise is the finite spirit unable to
take in the infinite, to fathom it in its bottomless depths, and yet it
is able with constantly increasing clearness to attain to a true
knowledge not only of the existence but also of the nature of
God,--not, however, by means of the understanding, which relates to and
is exclusively occupied with the finite, but by means of the reason,
which relates essentially to the infinite. As all created being is a
reflection of God, and as man is his image, hence the type leads
directly to an (imperfect it may be, but yet) true knowledge of the
prototype [Rom. i, 19, 20; Col. iii, 10]. The assumption that man can
know of God only that he is, and what he is not, but not what he is, is
self-contradictory and unbiblical; a merely negative knowledge is no
knowledge at all, and of that of whose nature I know nothing I cannot
affirm even, that it is. The Evangelical Church very strongly
emphasizes primitive man's capability of attaining to a knowledge of
the truth, even in relation to the divine nature; the Apologia (i, S:
17, 18) ascribes to him sapientia et notitia dei certior, "a correct
and clear knowledge of God." Skepticism may readily find excuse for
itself outside of Christianity, but what holds good of man as estranged
from God, does not hold equally of him who is in communion with that
God who is himself the truth; and hence within the Christian world,
skepticism has no longer any reason of existence. Also the assertion of
Kant, that the object per se remains hidden from human knowledge, and
that all knowledge of reality has, in the sphere of pure reason, only a
formal and subjective validity, is in direct contradiction to the
Christian world-view, which expresses a much greater confidence in the
harmony of the universe. The perfect man and the Christian can do more
than "conjecture and presume;" for, "the spirit of man is the candle of
the Lord" [Prov. xx, 27].--That man's first God-consciousness should
rest on an objective self-revelation of God, was a necessary condition
to his spiritual education toward finding the truth for himself.
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SECTION LXI. The Volitionating Spirit, Freedom of Will.
(2) Man is a willing, a volitionating, spirit; the goal of his
life-movement is for him a conscious end. He is not impelled
unconsciously and by extraneous force toward that to which he is to
attain, but he knows the end, and himself directs himself toward
it,--he chooses the known goal by virtue of a personal
will-determination,--that is, in his willing he is free. The end of
rational willing is the good, and, in so far as this is to be realized
by freedom, the morally-good. That which in nature-objects takes place
by necessity, becomes, in the sphere of the moral will, a "should;"
that which in the former case is natural law, becomes here a moral
precept; that which is there natural development, becomes here moral
life. But the will of the created spirit differs from the prototypal
will of God by the fact that its development in time is not
unconditioned, but is always conditioned on free self-determination, so
that consequently there exists the possibility of another
self-determination than that toward the true end,--that is, in a word,
by the fact that man's freedom of will, as distinguished from the
divine (which is, at the same time, eternal necessity), is freedom of
choice--liberum arbitrium. The finite spirit can, and should, attain to
the good as the purpose of its life, but it can also--what it should
not do--turn away from this good; and it attains to the good only when
it freely wills to attain to it. Man, as created good, has this freedom
in the highest degree, so that it is not limited or trammeled by any
tendency to evil inherent in his natural non-perfection, as, for
example, by his sensuousness. It is incumbent upon ethics to describe
and explain the development of the natural freedom of the, as yet,
undetermined will, into the moral freedom of the holy will.
The moral freedom of the will is distinctly presupposed in the Biblical
account of primitive man. "And the Lord God commanded the man, saying,
Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat; but of the tree of
the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it" [Gen. ii, 16,
17]. God's injunction addresses itself to the free will of man, and
requires of him moral obedience. When, now, man nevertheless actually
did that which was forbidden, he simply did the opposite of what God's
holy will was; and he thereby demonstrated in fact, though to his ruin,
the reality of human freedom of choice. Scripture knows absolutely
nothing of any other view of the true nature of man than that he was
capable of freely choosing good or evil. For this idea of freedom of
choice, however, Scripture has no specific expression; for eleutheros,
eleutheria, originally used in a legal sense, designate the condition
of mall as emancipated by Christ; the idea of man's freedom of choice
is expressed rather as a "choosing between good and evil;" for example,
in Isa. vii, 15, 16, where the time of the spiritual maturity of a man
is called the time when he "shall know to refuse the evil and choose
the good" [comp. Deut. xi, 26 sqq.], or when he can do "according to
his pleasure" [Esth. i, 8], or that which is "good in his own eyes"
[Gen. xvi, 6; xix, 8]. The view of freedom of choice as presented in
the book of Sirach xv, 14, holds good in its full sense evidently only
of man as free from the bondage of sin. In the New Testament, man's
freedom of choice is implied by thelein (for example, in Matt. xxiii,
37; whereas the "power over one's own will" mentioned in 1 Cor. vii, 37
refers more to our moral discretion).
In the Christian church the full moral freedom of choice of man before
the fall, has been uniformly admitted; and the notion that human
actions are necessarily determined, just as uniformly rejected [comp.
Apol. i, p. 52, 53; Form. Conc. ii, p. 580, 677]. The "supralapsarian"
predestinarianism of Calvin has never been ecclesiastically sanctioned,
nor in fact does even it deny freedom of choice as a principle, and
expressly, but only actually. Entirely different from this teaching of
Calvin is the fundamental denial of freedom of will in all Pantheistic
systems since Spinoza. In Pantheism there is no place for freedom, and
what appears there under this name is something entirely different from
that which the consciousness of all nations understands thereby. Where
conscious spirit is not the ground, but simply a product of the
collective development of the All, there the individual spirit is in
its entire existence, essence, and life, absolutely determined; and its
single life-manifestations are quite as absolutely determined as is its
being itself;--in which case the rational spirit can never have a
consciousness of freedom, but only a "sense of absolute dependence,"
and hence there can be no room for any moral responsibility. The
seemingly moral life is as immediate and necessary a manifestation of
the "all-life" as is the growth of plants, and it differs from the
nature-life only in the fact, that man has a consciousness of that
which he does necessarily, in fact, but which he fancies he does
freely. The will differs from unconscious nature-impulse only by the
consciousness which attends it, but it is, in fact, quite as absolutely
determined and unfree as is the latter. This view is expressed most
clearly, simply, and consequentially, by Spinoza; and it is neither in
the interest of clearness nor of scientific honesty, when more recent
systems, based on him, make free use of fair-sounding words about human
freedom. In essential agreement with Spinoza, Schleiermacher, in his
"Discourses on Religion," rejects the freedom of the will. The essence
of religion is a sense of the absolute unity of the universe and the
individual existence,--a consciousness that our whole being and
activity are the being and activity of the universe itself, and are
determined thereby.--Schelling, who subsequently attributed to the idea
of the personal will a very high significancy, held as yet in his
"Lectures on Academic Study" (1803) to the unconditional necessity of
all apparently free phenomena. History is quite as fully an immediate
and necessary manifestation of the absolute, as is nature; men are but
instruments for carrying out that which is per se necessary, and they
are, in their reality and peculiarities, quite as fatally-determined as
the actions themselves. Actions appear as free or arbitrary only in so
far as man makes a necessarily-determined action specifically his own,
but this action itself, as well as its result in good or evil, and
hence also man in all his life-manifestations, is but the passive
instrument of absolute necessity; all that which is apparently free is
but a necessary expression of the eternal order of things. Subsequently
(1809), Schelling sought to rise above Pantheism, and, in some manner,
to comprehend the freedom of the will, but he did not rise beyond
wide-reaching contradictions. The assumption of an ante-mundane fall
into sin was intended to reconcile freedom with necessity (Phil. Schr.,
1809, i, 438 sqq., 463 sqq.). On this we remark here simply, that from
an ethical stand-point it makes no moral difference whether free
self-determination is precluded, for our whole mundane life, by an
absolute natural necessity, or by a pretended ante-mundane free
determination of man himself, but of which he has not the least
consciousness. Where there is no continuity of the consciousness, there
is also no unity of the person; and a pretended free act which I am
supposed to have done, but of which I know absolutely nothing, is not
my act but is absolutely foreign to me; and a fettering of my freedom,
by a, to me entirely unknown, timeless act cannot be regarded from a
moral point of view as other than a simple being-determined by
unconditional necessity.--Hegel has left the idea of freedom, in many
respects, in great uncertainty; he is very fond of talking of freedom;
but his system itself is compatible only with a universal
all-determining necessity; freedom is nothing more than "the not being
dependent on another, the sustaining relations to one's self;" in its
full sense, however, this is true only of the spirit as absolute;
individual spirits are only transient manifestations of the collective
life, and are determined by the same.--More recent philosophy, wherever
it deviates from strict Pantheism, uniformly attempts to bring personal
freedom of will more clearly before the consciousness. There is here no
possibility of a middle-ground, and ambiguous rhetoric can no longer
deceive. Where God is not the infinite eternal Spirit, but comes to
self-consciousness only in man, there the thought of a real freedom of
will is impossible. The infinite domination of the All leaves no place
for the free movement of the individual spirit; the misused freedom of
a single creature would throw the collective universe into disorder,
for the unfree All affords no possibility of preserving moral order as
against the free actions of individuals. On this ground there remains a
freedom only for thoughtless contemplation; and this would then, of
necessity, lead to the ethics of an unlimited self-love which can seek
and find in the bedlam of individual wills nothing higher than itself.
Freedom is possible only where a free Spirit rules in and over the All.
The personal God is able, in almighty love, to create free spirits, and
to guarantee them in their freedom, namely, in that he lovingly
withdraws his direct activity from the sphere of will-freedom, and thus
preserves the created spirit in its spiritual essence which is freedom
itself; and such a God is able in the midst of the diversity and
multiplicity of free actions, and even of ungodly ones, to preserve the
moral order of the universe.
(The question of freedom of will has of late been much discussed,
mostly from the stand-point of recent philosophy and in relation
thereto. Daub: Statement and Criticism of Hypotheses Relating to
Free-Will, 1834; Romang: On Free-Will and Determinism, 1835 [starting
out from Schleiermacher's stand-point, he attains only to a semblance
of freedom]; Matthias: The Idea of Freedom, 1834; [since Hegel]
Herbart: On the Doctrine of the Freedom of the Human Will, 1836
[critical, rather than furnishing new matter]; Vatke; Passavant: On the
Freedom of the Will, 1835; K. Ph. Fischer, in Fichte's Zeitschrift,
iii, 101; ix, 79; Zeller, in the Theologische Jahrbuecher, 1846; and
others).
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SECTION LXII. The Feeling Spirit.
(3) Man is a feeling, a sensitive, spirit,--becomes conscious of
himself as standing in harmony with, or in antagonist to, other being;
and, inasmuch as in the primitive unperverted creation, goodness, and
hence harmony, is an essential quality, and a real disharmony therein
inconceivable, hence while man--as self-developing, that is, as seeking
after an, as yet, unrealized goal--has a consciousness of something yet
lacking to his ultimate perfection, still he knows nothing of any real
antagonism of existence, and hence he has no feeling of pain, but only
of joy in existence, arising from his consciousness of an undisturbed
harmony of universal existence with his own. personality,--that is, in
a word, the feeling of happiness. In so far as this feeling expresses
at the same time the recognition of this existence in its peculiar
reality, it is love. Bliss and love to God and to his works are not two
different things, but only two different phases of the same spiritual
life-manifestation,--the former being rather the subjective, the latter
the objective phase,--inasmuch as in bliss and love man is, in fact,
perfectly at one with the objective universe.
Feeling is not peculiar to the rational spirit; it becomes rational
only in so far as it is an expression of self-consciousness; and as
self-consciousness is rational only in being a consciousness not of
mere individual being but also of a Godlikeness in the peculiarity of
the person, so also is rational feeling not of a merely individual
nature, but it is excited by the traces of God which shine forth from
all created existence, and hence it is, at bottom, always a love of
God. The goodness of created existence is embraced by rational feeling
not as being good merely for the feeling individual, but as a
being-good per se; the rational spirit feels not merely that this or
that entity stands in harmony with itself, but it feels itself as
standing in harmony with the totality of existence,--feels the harmony
of God's world as such. In the same degree that spirituality rises,
rises also the vividness and compass of feeling. The unconscious
nature-object is affected only by the very few things that come into
immediate contact with it; the brute shows so much the more extended
and more lively a sympathy with external existence the higher and
nobler its rank. Emotionlessness, blunt indifference toward external
objects, is always, save where it is artificially superinduced by false
teachings, a sign of deep moral degradation. The Biblical account of
the primitive condition of man uniformly represents the destination of
nature to be, to procure to the rational spirit the feeling of joy, of
happiness. Man is placed in the garden of Eden, and thereby brought
into the immediate presence of the full harmony of the created. world;
in it God causes to grow "every tree that is pleasant to the sight and
good for food;" and the full feeling of happiness, as springing from
his love to that which harmonizes with him, is procured to man (to whom
it is not "good" to be alone) by the creation of woman,--in whom he at
once recognizes that she is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh,--a
being other than, and yet of, himself.
Feeling is the presupposition of all activity, and hence also of the
moral; and the most real feeling of all--that which relates to the
moral-is not an un-pleasure feeling,--as is often assumed in antagonism
to the Biblical world-view, but in fact a happiness-feeling. It would
not imply a "good" creation, nor indeed any God-likeness in man, were
it a fact that man were incited to activity only by un-pleasure, that
is, by pain, while yet happiness were the end of the active life. Even
as God is not prompted to activity by any feeling of want, but rather
in virtue of his eternal and absolutely perfect bliss, so also can the
true moral feeling of man, who is God's image, be no other than the
feeling of happiness and love; but the consciousness of a yet to be won
good is per se by no means a feeling of unhappiness, on the contrary it
in fact awakens a direct pleasure in seeking.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXIII. The Immortal Spirit.
(4) Man, as a rationally self-conscious spirit, is personally immortal;
only as such is he a truly moral being,--has a moral life-task
transcending his own immediate individuality. Faith in immortality is
the presupposition of true morality; for the moral life-task is one
that is incessantly progressive, ever self-renewing, and at no moment
perfectly brought to a close; and, as the perfect realization of
Godlikeness, it can only be accomplished through an
uninterruptedly-continuing personal life.
We have to do here, not with the scientific demonstration of the
doctrine of personal immortality, but only with its moral significance.
In recent times, especially since Kant, the notion has frequently been
maintained, that morality is entirely independent of a belief in
immortality, nay, that it evinces its purity and genuineness by the
very fact of entirely leaving out of view this belief, and that a man
is not truly moral so long as he allows himself to be determined in his
moral activity by this belief. It is true, Kant deduces from the idea
of the moral, the idea of personal immortality as a rational postulate;
the moral idea itself, however, is with him independent of this
postulate,--calls for its fulfillment absolutely and unconditionally.
There is in this some degree of self-contradiction; if the "categorical
imperative" demands morality unconditionally, and utterly
irrespectively of immortality, then this immortality cannot be embraced
in it as a postulate, but must be merely associated thereto from
without. In the endlessness of the life-task, however, as it is
presented by Kant, there actually lies, in fact, the thought of
immortality as included in the moral idea itself,--so that his express
dissociating of the two ideas is illegitimate and unnatural.
Schleiermacher goes further; and, even in his Dogmatics, he is unable
entirely to rise above his previous express denial of immortality. In
his Discourses on Religion he places the religiously-moral life-task
proper in an actual disregarding of the idea of this immortality.
"Strive even in this life to annihilate your personality, and to live
in the One and All; strive to be more than yourselves, in order that
you may lose but little when you lose yourselves;" the immortality to
be aimed at is not that of the personality, not above and beyond the
earthly existence, but it is an ideal immortality in each and every
moment; men should not desire to hold fast to their personality, rather
"should they embrace the single opportunity presented to them by death
for escaping beyond it." [5] Even in his Dogmatics Schleiermacher
holds, that the purest morality perfectly consists with a "renunciation
of the perpetuity of the personality,--that, in fact, an interestedness
in a recompense is impious. In the Hegelian philosophy morality is
absolutely independent of immortality; this idea in fact can nowhere
find footing in the system; the religion of the "this-side" which
sprang from this philosophy, affects to give point to its rhetorical
flourishes on morality by its seemingly magnanimous renunciation of all
expectation of eternal life.
The pretended disinterestedness of moral actions performed without
reference. to immortality, is mere appearance. All moral activity looks
to an end, and this end is a good; and personal perfection is for each
individual an essential part of the highest good, or, in fact, this
good itself; hence not to wish to obtain any thing for one's self by
one's moral activity is simply absurd; the first and most necessary of
all goods, and the one which is the presupposition of all morality, is
in fact existence; to desire to renounce personal existence, or to
regard it as indifferent, is equivalent to renouncing moral life, and
is consequently not unselfish, but it is immoral. It is true we cannot
claim for the so-called teleological proof of the immortality of the
soul, full demonstrative power; this much, however, it does prove,
namely, that the highest moral perfection would be impossible without
immortality; for, as man can never arrive at such a perfection of the
moral life as that he can advance no further, so that consequently his
farther existence would be purposeless, but in fact, on the contrary,
every fulfillment of one moral duty gives in turn birth to new ones,
and there is absolutely no point to be found where the moral spirit
might say, "thus far and no farther, there remains nothing more for me
to do," --hence also moral perfection cannot be realized save in an
unbroken perpetuity of personal life. To say now, that the moral
life-task does not consist in obtaining entire moral perfection, but
only a limited degree thereof, would be per se immoral. And in fact
should we for a moment concede some such limited degree of the moral,
then there would be no conceivable rule for fixing this degree, and
each would be at liberty to narrow the limits of his morality at
pleasure, without that any one would be justified in blaming, or less
esteeming him therefor.
In all moral systems, even those of heathen nations, morality is more
precious than temporal life, and that person is regarded as ignoble and
contemptible, even by pagans, who clings to his life at any price, for
example, at that of failing in his duty to his country, to his family,
or to his own honor. This moral sentiment of honor we have no wish to
weaken. It is conceivable, on the assumption of the prevalence of sin,
that one's moral duty, as, for example, that of speaking or confessing
the truth, or of fidelity in love or obedience, cannot in some
conjunctures be fulfilled save at the sacrifice of temporal life. Now,
to one's existence in general one has an unlimited right; it is his
first and most natural right. In the absence of immortality, however,
the sacrifice of one's life for a moral duty would not only not be a
moral requirement, but it would be downright folly and sin; for
morality can never require the giving up of the first condition of all
moral activity, namely, personal existence. The first, the most
immediate and absolutely unconditional duty, is self-preservation, and
other duties are binding only in so far as they do not radically
interfere with this one. As it would not be a moral action, but on the
contrary a proof of insanity if one man should really choose [6]
eternal damnation for the sake of another, just as little is any being
whatever at liberty to purchase for others any temporal good, however
great, at the cost of personal existence; and in the absence of
immortality there can be none other than temporal goods. Man may
sacrifice any one good only for the sake of a higher good; but in
renouncing existence he obtains no good whatever. The sound and
unsophisticated judgment will find, on the denial of immortality, no
other rule of life-wisdom than simply to take advantage of the short
span of life here allotted to us for enjoying the greatest possible
happiness. Happiness is in fact an absolutely necessary phase of human
perfection, and an essential expression of the highest good; to strive
after it is not only not selfishness, on the contrary, it is a
requirement of reason and of moral duty; and it is not possible that in
a world of rational order morality should work any thing else than
happiness. Were it otherwise it would be a plain proof of the
non-existence of a rational, moral world-order, and in that case it
would be totally absurd to speak further of moral duty at all, for duty
is itself a part of a moral world-order. If there is, now, no eternal
blessedness as a highest good, then it can be only after temporal,
earthly happiness, that man has to seek, and by which consequently he
is to measure the morality of his acts. If it is true that all morality
necessarily renders happy, then on the above hypothesis only that can
be moral which procures for us earthly comfort, temporal enjoyment; the
teachings of the Epicureans would then be the only rational theory, and
no valid objection could be made to the moral rule: "Let us eat and
drink, for to-morrow we die" [1 Cor. xv, 32]. Foolish then would he be
who did not recklessly seek as much enjoyment in his earthly life as in
any way he possibly could. It is, of course, not necessary that this
system should lead simply to groveling sensual enjoyment; the ancient
Epicureans knew well enough that riotous intemperate indulgence works
much suffering, and the modern ones also know equally well, that by
unrestrained wantonness they bring themselves into shame and contempt
in the eyes of the morally-taught masses; this, however, does not in
any degree ameliorate the essence of this morality of the "this side."
The outwardly-respectable life of many a denier of immortality rests in
reality on the power of public opinion, and on custom as grown up from
Christian ground. But the case is quite otherwise where unbelief
becomes fashionable in wider circles of society. Let vouch for this,
the utter immorality and depravity that prevailed in the circles of the
French and of the Gallicized German free-thinkers of the last century.
In the lower walks of society where a simpler logic prevails, and where
respect for position and for public opinion has a less controlling
power, the practical inferences from a naturalistic philosophy are more
speedily and consistently drawn; and the ringleaders in depravity among
the lower classes of the present day are, for the most part, deeply
imbued with the conquests of "free thought," and are able thereby
admirably to justify their wantonness; and there is scarcely
conceivable a more absurd role than that assumed by the "respectable"
among the free-thinkers, who presume to preach morality to their more
free-thinking and more logically reasoning brethren.
He who is without belief in immortality cannot act from an
unconditional moral idea, but only from empirical external fitness,
from circumstantial need; he cannot make moral duty his life-task, and
his moral life sinks to a merely higher-cultured animal life. The
question as to whether Christian morality is possible without a belief
in immortality would have to be rejected as trivial,--seeing that a
belief in Christ's and God's express word is certainly included in
Christian morality,--had it not been expressly affirmed by some. The
word of Christ, however, is a sufficient answer. "He that loseth his
life for my sake shall find it," and "He that loveth his life shall
lose it, and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto
life eternal" [Matt. x, 39; Luke ix, 24; xvii, 33; John xii, 25; x, 17;
comp. 1 Cor. ix, 25; Phil. i, 21]. We emphasize in these passages, not
the expressly pronounced affirmation of a life after death, but simply
the express requirement to sacrifice one's life in the interest of a
moral duty. But a world-government in which the realization of the good
is possible only by the destruction of him who has for his life-task to
realize the good, would be per se in a state of utter anarchy, and
would have no right to impose moral duties. The simple undeniable fact
is this, that the Christian heroes who literally fulfilled the above
word of Christ, had joy in so doing only because of that living faith
that enabled them to pray amid the tortures of death: "Lord Jesus,
receive my spirit" [Acts vii, 59]. But between the Christian martyr's
joy in death and an unbeliever's defiant contempt of death, there is a
world-wide difference. Cases are not unfrequently seen of hardened
criminals and atheists meeting death with undaunted courage and great
coolness; this is, however, but another form of the cold defiance with
which other persons blow out their own brains; and whoever has the
assurance to compare such blind hardness, even in the remotest degree,
with the joyousness and peace of soul of the Christian, surely shows
himself utterly incapable of appreciating the true nature of morality.
When Schleiermacher and others, after him, declare it as unpious to be
interested in a recompense,--understanding by this assertion that there
is wanting a pure and immediate seeking for piety and morality
themselves, and that both are desired merely as means for attaining to
perfect happiness in a future life,--there is indeed some ground for
their position, but only in so far as the subject should regard
morality merely as a means to happiness, and that too as a meritorious
means even in our present state of sinfulness, while the happiness
should be considered as a justly claimable reward. But so soon as the
objectors presume to reprehend the seeking after happiness as an
essential and necessary phase of the highest good, and to brand as
unpious the striving after the same as an actual life-purpose in
general, we must reject their position as one-sided and untrue. Every
good and hence every moral end produces happiness; and it would be a
strange requirement, to permit the seeking after the good but not the
seeking after the happiness therein contained. When Christ and the
Apostles hesitated not to base all moral sacrifice on the promise and
confident hope of eternal life, it does not seem very becoming in a
Christian to stigmatize this as immoral self-seeking. When appeal is
made to the Reformed divine Danaeus, who (in his Ethica Christ. i, c.
17) represents the honor of God as the sole motive, and that for the
sake of which we should be in duty bound to take upon ourselves eternal
death, were it required of us, and who stigmatizes it as mercenary to
act morally for the sake of eternal happiness,--we may reply, on the
one hand, that it could never occur to one who is a Christian and
conscious of redemption by grace to regard eternal blessedness, as a
reward due for his virtue-merit,--which, in fact, is the sole view that
Danaeus rejects [fol. 78, ed. 3],--and, on the other hand, that this
somewhat rash and readily misunderstood declaration has quite a
different sense in the mouth of Danaeus, who held fast to personal
immortality, and in the mouth of those who see in the thought of
immortality only a "dogma" without significance for the religious life,
and which it is well to vail as much as possible in ambiguous
phraseology. And in fact it doubtless forms a part of the moral
honoring of God, that we believe in his promises, and love and thank
him for them, and also act piously from this loving thankfulness. For
the moral life is genuine only when it is a full and true expression of
the filial relation of man to God; and it is not only illegitimate, but
also a sinful disregarding of God, to require that we should keep only
one phase of this relation in view, and violently throw aside and
forget the other,--that we should see in God only the Sovereign and not
also the lovingly promising Father. If God has gifted man with
immortality, if he has promised to the Christian eternal life, then
neither can nor should man, as moral, have any other moral goal than
that which answers to this promise; if man, in his moral life, ignores
that this life is the way to eternal life,--that God has placed before
him an everlasting goal,--such conduct is an immoral rejecting of God's
love. Whoever does not act from love acts immorally; now, for the
promise of eternal life we owe God thankful love; hence there is no
true morality which has not this loving thankfulness for its motive.
Against this view,--which is surely in perfect harmony with the general
Christian consciousness,--indignant warning has been made, [7] as if it
were an ignoring of the inalienable "conquests of recent science," and
even appeal has been made to the Old Testament, in which, as an actual
fact, it is asserted, the doctrine of immortality is not presented as a
moral motive. Now, if the conquests of modern science are to consist in
going back to the Old Testament stand-point, for which, on other
occasions, the objectors are not in the habit of showing any very high
esteem, we may well allow ourselves to deem it a progress beyond said
conquests, to come back to the stand-point of Christ and the Apostles.
What the wise educative purpose of the said Old Testament peculiarity
was, we have elsewhere inquired, and we do not hesitate in the least to
claim that Christian morality stands higher than that of the Old
Testament, and that also in moral respects "he that is least in the
kingdom of heaven is greater" than the greatest of the Old Testament
saints [Matt. xi, 11], though indeed the latter also had, in their
faith in the divine promise, in their hope of a future glorious goal
for all the children of God, a powerful moral motive that was in no
wise opposed to a belief in immortality, but on the contrary implicitly
contained it. Whether those who in recent times decline, with such
professed disinterestedness, the application of faith in immortality as
a moral motive, seek their moral glory in quite as unconditional a
submission to God's revealed Word and guidance as did the saints of the
Old Testament, seems to us, after all, quite questionable. We do not
doubt but that there may be some sort of morality without said faith;
but the question is as to true morality--that which embraces the whole
man, appropriates to itself all truth, and is of the truth. The pains
which some persons give themselves to prove that there may be a moral
life without faith in immortality, reminds us very much of the recently
made experiment of a naturalist:--he scooped out with a spoon the brain
of a living dove, and the poor bird actually continued to live for six
several weeks, and even partook of food in the mean time! Very
interesting experiments may be had by performing similar amputations on
the living body of the Christian faith,--and some of our theologians
are quite busy at the work,--but whether the patient prospers very well
under the operation is another question.
__________________________________________________________________
[5] Reden ueb die Rel., p. 174 sqq., 2 Auf.
[6] It is only seemingly so that Paul expresses such a willingness in
Rom. ix, 3.
[7] So especially Alex. Schweitzer in the Protest. Kirchenz., 1862, Nr.
1; Fr. Nitzsch in the Stud. u. Krit., 1863, II, 375.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
B.--MAN AS TO HIS SENSUOUSLY-CORPOREAL LIFE.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXIV.
The natural body, as the physical basis on which the spirit develops
itself to its full reality, has not a purpose in and of itself; but
only for the spirit, namely, to be the perfectly-answering and
absolutely-subserving organ of the spirit's relations to nature. This
embraces three points:--1. The sensuous corporeality is, despite its
seemingly trammeling power over the freedom of the spirit, per se
absolutely good, and there is neither any thing evil in it nor is it
the cause of any evil whatsoever; and as the body must, in so far as it
is normal, be in harmony with the spirit and with nature, hence there
is in it no sort of ground for any trammeling of the spiritual
life--for any pain.
The moral significance of the sensuous nature, the corporeality, of man
is a very important point in the Christian world-theory, and can in no
wise be regarded as non-essential. It is, in fact, one among the living
questions of the day,--questions which are being warmly agitated even
outside of the church, and in relation to which the bearing of the
Christian consciousness is, in many respects, entirely misunderstood.
As early as the fourth century there infected the Christian church
(partly under the prompting, or at least the countenance of
non-Christian influences) a spiritualistic view of the
naturally-sensuous,--a practical disesteeming of the same in comparison
with the spiritual; and the Middle Ages followed in general the same
tendency; the Reformation returned to the primitive Christian and
biblical view. The recent rationalistic philosophy of the understanding
developed, in contrast to the Middle Ages, the theoretical rather than
the practical phase of spiritualism, and conceived the
sensuously-corporeal life, not merely as the cause of sin, but as per
se and originally a trammeling of the spiritual life,--as the real
source and seat of sin, and hence as a mere transitory and soon
entirely-to-be-thrown-off evil,--and interpreted, utterly erroneously,
the New Testament term, sarx, referring it to the natural corporeality.
Death, which had previously been viewed as the wages of sin, was now
regarded as the emancipator from the seductive and spirit-burdening
corporeal life,--as the divinely appointed normal beginning of the
untrammeled life of the spirit. Sensuousness is here the not inherited,
but innate, and not guilty, but guilt-generating malum originis--an
evil, the origin of which was not free responsibly-sinning man, but the
divine creative will itself; in getting rid of corporeality therefore
man gets rid at the same time also of his (so-regarded)
scarcely-imputable sinfulness. Sin consists essentially in the
predominating of the sense-life over the spirit; the spirit per se
would have little or no occasion for sin. The doctrine of a
resurrection of a glorified body is rejected as belonging to a crude,
unspiritual world-view; it is only the pure disembodied spirit that is
free and perfect. In opposition to this view, the more recent and now
spreading irreligious Materialism has exalted the sensuously-corporeal
nature above the spirit, and conceived of the spirit as merely a
transient force-manifestation of organized matter.
The evangelically-Christian view is neither the above spiritualistic
nor this materialistic one. Christianity, though so often charged by
worldlings with a one-sided spiritualism, places in fact a much higher
moral worth on the corporeal nature than was ever done by heathenism.
The body is destined, it is true, to absolute subserviency to the
spirit; but it has precisely in this, its perfect service, also a share
in the high moral significancy of the spirit,--it is not only not to be
discarded as a trammeling of the spirit, but is a very essential part
of the moral person. As the eye cannot say to the hand: "I have no need
of thee" [1 Cor. xii, 21], neither also may the spirit thus speak to
the body. As the nature-side of man, corporeality mediates the action
of the spirit upon nature, so that nature becomes thrown open to the
spirit as an object both of knowledge and of action. The spirit stands
in living relation not only to spirit, but essentially also to nature,
and virtualizes also therein its Godlikeness.
The normal relation of the body to the spirit cannot be directly
inferred from the present actual state of humanity; for if we assume,
even preliminarily, the possibility that the moral spirit of the race
has fallen away from its harmony with God, we yet thereby render it
unsafe to infer that relation from the present state of things, since
from the disturbed harmony of man with God follows also the disturbance
of his harmony with himself, and especially of that between spirit and
body. The true original relation can be educed only, on the one hand,
from Scriptural declarations and from the living example of Christ,
and, on the other, from the Christian idea of creation. The simple fact
that all that God creates is good, is itself proof that the
corporeality created for the spirit can neither be a trammeling nor a
natural source of suffering for the same. Suffering and pain are indeed
means of educative chastening for man as sinful, but for the unsinful
their presence would be the reversing of all moral order. In God's
good-created world, men, were they unfallen, would receive their moral
training through manifestations of love, without the intervention of
suffering and pain; to deny this would be to deny either God's love or
his power.
The sensuous corporeality in its uncorrupted primitiveness can disturb
neither the moral life by really immoral appetites, nor the feeling of
happiness by pains and sickness,--the aequale temperamentum qualitatum
corporis (equipoise of the qualities of the body) of the Apologia (i,
17);--in that which was created good there can be no antagonism between
the life of the spirit and that of the body, nor between the body and
nature; but every suffering, every pain, is evidence of an antagonism,
of an evil in its subject. In the Scriptures all bodily sufferings are
expressly traced back to sin [Gen. iii, 16, 19; Rom. v, 12-21]; this is
the only possible "theodicy" in regard to human suffering. The body of
the rational spirit is under the dominion of that spirit, and not under
that of unspiritual nature; and the spirit is under the power of
itself, and not under that of a nature-bound body; and it is only such
a spirit as is free in every respect,--one that is not rendered unfree
by a hampering corporeality,--that is in a condition to fulfill the
whole of moral duty. In proportion as the now actually spirit-hampering
sensuous corporeality is held to be the normal condition, and to answer
to the divine creative idea, in the same proportion must the moral
life-task also be lowered. And when Rationalism finds the true freedom
and moral emancipation of the spirit only in the freeing of the same
from the body, there is at least this much of truth in the position,
namely, that it is an admission that the present bondage of the spirit
under the manifoldly-hampering power of the body is not in harmony with
the true life of the moral spirit. But whereas the
evangelically-Christian consciousness refers this antagonism in God's
world to the guilt of man, Rationalism casts the responsibility for
this condition (which itself admits to be in contradiction to the moral
idea) upon God, and thereby, in fact, undermines the Christian idea of
God, and hence also the unconditional obligatoriness of moral duty.
Ultra posse nemo obligatur (Obligation does not transcend ability);
this is an ancient truth valid not only in the sphere of jurisprudence
but also in that of morality.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXV.
2. The body mediates the relation of the objective world to the
personal spirit, through the senses; and this mediation, as being
established by the divine creative will, is a truthful one. On the
other hand, the body mediates the active relation of the spirit to the
objective world, and, in subserving the spirit, it thereby mediates the
morally-essential dominion of the spirit over nature, and is, hence,
the necessary and adequate organ of the moral spirit in its relation to
the external world,--and not that of nature for its dominion over the
spirit.
If the created spirit has surety of ability for knowing the truth, this
of itself implies that the knowledge mediated by the senses must be
real and true,--that sense-impressions per se do not deceive us. "The
hearing ear and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of them"
[Prov. xx, 12]; but God is a God of truth; and the solemn exhortation:
"Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things!"
[Isa. xl, 26], is at the same time a guarantee of the reliableness of
the senses. If the senses deceive us, then God deceives us. Just as
without faith in God there is no morality, so also, without confidence
in the truthfulness of the divinely established world-order--which of
course includes the vital relations of creatures to each other--a
complete morality is impossible. Man cannot be under obligation to be
truthful, if creation is not so. The matter is therefore not so morally
indifferent as at first glance it might seem. If God is to be seen in
his works [Rom. i, 20] then must these works speak truthfully to us. If
sense-impressions have only subjective truth, then they have none at
all, and hence no worth whatever,--then we sustain no moral relation to
the objective world, inasmuch as under such circumstances it would have
for us no existence. There could then be no further question save of a
moral duty of man to himself or to God. Skepticism on this point is
therefore no less anti-moral than impious. Deceptions growing out of
false judgments as to per se true sense-impressions, must of course not
be confounded with the deception of sense-impressions themselves; it is
not the eye that sees the sky touch the earth at the horizon, it is
only a premature judgment that leads to this deception. Real
sense-deceptions spring of disease, but disease does not exist in a
state of moral purity.
The spirit is to dominate over nature, not directly, however, by a mere
magic-working will, but by the instrumentality of its own dominated
body. The destination to this domination is expressed even in the build
of the human body: erect, with upturned look, with hands planned for
the most manifold activity, the human body bears upon it the impress as
well as the reality of dominating power. While Materialism subordinates
spirit to nature, the Christian worldview subordinates nature to
spirit; and as the spirit is entirely master over its body, so is it
likewise master over nature by means of the body. A childish,
morally-unripe spirit cannot, it is true, dominate nature at the will
of its irrational whims,--but we speak here only of the rational
spirit, and in this sphere the words, "the spirit is willing, but the
flesh is weak," have no application; in normal man the flesh is also
willing and strong. Even as through the senses nature is open and
unlocked for the cognizing spirit, so is it also through the bodily
organs for the volitionating spirit. If the facts seem otherwise in the
present reality of things, if the body is no longer an absolutely
obedient medium for the dominion of the spirit over nature, but on the
contrary is much oftener a mere instrument of nature for her dominating
over the spirit, this is simply because the right and primitive
relation has been disturbed, and has given place to the enfeebling
influence of sin.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXVI.
3. The incipient limitation of the freedom of the normally
self-developing spirit by the body in consequence of the dependent
condition of the latter on external nature, is only the corresponding
normal expression of the still existing unfreedom of the, as yet,
unmatured spirit, and is therefore also the protection of the same
against its own immaturity,--a divinely-intended means of discipline
for the same. But this primarily limiting relation of the body to the
spirit is only transient, and is not a real trammeling. The body, while
following in its own development the growth of the spirit in
rationality and freedom, passes gradually over from its at first
predominantly determining and conditioning character to that of being
predominantly determined and conditioned by the spirit; and in its
ultimate perfection,--as corresponding to the fall moral maturity of
the spirit,--it becomes perfectly spirit-imbued and
spirit-appropriated,--the absolutely subservient organ of the
emancipated spirit,--becomes a perfectly spiritualized and transfigured
body, which latter, as being developed by a regular growth out of the
original unfree nature-body, is conditioned neither on a violent death
of the nature-body nor is subject itself to death, seeing that it is
simply the necessary and normal organ of the immortal spirit.
It would be an injustice in the Creator, and a God-repugnant defect in
creation, were the essentially free and morally matured spirit bound in
unfreedom by a per se irrational nature; and the anti-scriptural
notion, that the rational spirit has been banished into a body, as into
a prison, in punishment for the sins of a previous life, would then be
the sole possible justification of the Creator. But the conditional
unfreedom of the spirit such as we must admit also for the unfallen
state, namely, that it is limited by the natural alternation of
sleeping and waking [comp. Gen. ii, 21] by the natural wants of food,
etc., [comp. Gen. i, 29, 30], is not against but for the spirit. It
reminds the personal spirit of its belonging to the per se unitary and
law-governed All, its regulated connection with nature; it protects
the, as yet, inexperienced spirit from unwise presumption, from
arbitrary irrational meddling with the divinely-established order of
the world,--teaches it to submit itself to the divinely-willed and
ordered laws of existence, teaches it humility, and brings to its
consciousness its dependence on God's power, thereby impressing upon it
the lesson that it can attain to true freedom only by a free and
cheerful self-denial in relation to the will of God. Hunger, e. g., is
the most powerful stimulus to activity, and hence to the development of
the spirit, and ever since the entrance of sin into the race there has
been no other so sure and effectual a means of stirring up the spirit
out of its slothful indolence [Prov. xvi, 26, in the original]. In the
present state of man hunger is not only of significance for the
individual, it is a world-historical power, the first and most
persistent stimulus to civilization. Unfallen humanity, it is true,
knows nothing of any hunger-stress, but it knows it as a want requiring
satisfaction; and it is not a feature of the suffering but of the true
humanity of Christ, that he also felt hunger.
That which was a disciplining beginning, however, is not to be
permanent; but it is not the body, but only the limiting power of the
same that is to pass away. The view that the body is not a permanent
condition of the spirit, but only a prison-house destined to
destruction,--a merely useless burdening incident of the spirit,--is a
very favorite one, it is true, but it is a very un-Christian one. What
God does is done well, and he has given the body to the spirit for
perfect service, and not for a burden and a clog. Of the notion that
the original body is only a worthless case or husk, to be cast off like
the chrysalis of the butterfly, the Scriptures know nothing;--the
dissolving of the earthly house [2 Cor. v, 1] applies only to the body
of sin and death [Gen. iii, 19];--the body is originally, on the
contrary, the divinely-established permanent condition of true life,
though indeed not an absolutely necessary condition of the life of the
spirit in general. Christ, the perfect man, shows in his own person
what the human body signifies and is; Christ's resurrection is a stone
of stumbling for all one-sided spiritualism. Christ lives on, not as a
mere bodiless spirit, but in his now glorified body, and he will
transfigure our sin-ruined body that it may be like unto his glorious
body [Phil. iii, 21]. This transfiguration, though without death--not a
being unclothed, but a being clothed upon [2 Cor. v, 4]--is the
original purpose of the body given to the immortal spirit as its
subservient organ. The spirit's body is in fact, as such, no longer a
mere nature-object, but, as the exclusive possession of an immortal
subject, it is also itself raised above the perishableness incident to
all mere nature-objects.--Death is in the Scriptures uniformly referred
back to sin; and the great emphasis which the New Testament lays upon
the resurrection of the body indicates what the original body was to
have been. If it is the moral destination of the spirit to be free, to
dominate by reason over the merely natural, then death, as a violent
interruption of life, comes into direct antagonism with this
destination; it indicates a complete ascendency of unconscious nature
over spirit, the impotency of the spirit in the face of nature--a
condition of the real bondage of spirit to nature. Were this
wide-reaching antagonism between the actual state and the moral nature
of the spirit the original condition, and were it included in the
nature of things or in the creative will itself, then the nerve of all
morality would be paralyzed, and all moral courage broken. To struggle
against too great odds is folly; if irrational nature is more powerful
than the moral spirit, then the latter can rationally take no better
course than to yield to superior force, and to place its own sensuous
nature higher than its spiritual.
__________________________________________________________________
C.--THE UNITY OF THE SPIRIT AND THE BODY.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXVII.
In virtue of the union of spirit and body into one personality, the
spirit is manifoldly determined also in its moral life, and it appears
in consequence under different phases of existence, which occasion also
correspondingly different manifestations of morality.
1. The stages of life. The spirit is dependent in its development on
that of the body, not absolutely, however, but only relatively; the
development-stages of the moral spirit--which do not entirely coincide
with those of the body, but only in general and partially run parallel
therewith--are the following:--(a) The stage of moral minority,
childhood. Here the body is as yet master over the spirit; the spirit
is as yet in most things essentially unfree--dependent on outer,
sensuous, and spiritual influences,--is more guided than
self-guiding.--(b) The stage of transition to majority,--still wavering
between freedom and unfreedom; morality appears essentially under the
form of free obedience toward educators.--(c) The stage of moral
majority. The person has come into possession of himself,--is actually
master over himself as regards moral self-determination, is able by his
moral consciousness to guide himself independently; hence he is fully
morally responsible, and is in process of developing an independent
character.--A relapsing of the morally matured into a state of moral
irresponsibility, a becoming childish, is not conceivable in a normal
condition of humanity, though here there would doubtless, indeed, be a
greater turning away from merely earthly things, and a growing
preoccupation with the supernatural,--in the stage of moral old age.
The development of a spirit as united with a body, consists in one of
its phases in the fact that it more and more throws off its primarily
normal greater dependence on the corporeal life,--that it becomes
freer, ripens toward maturity. Although we cannot conceive of the first
created human beings as beginning life in a state of unconscious
childhood, still the above-mentioned stages of life, seeing that they
are implied in the very nature of self-development, must hold good, at
least, of all succeeding generations; and even the first man could not
appear at once as a perfectly mature, morally-ripened spirit, but had
to pass through similar stages of development. According to the
naturalistic view, the spiritual development is exclusively and
absolutely conditioned on that of the body--is only the bloom and vigor
of the same. This assertion, as well as the theory on which it is
based, is refuted by the simple matter of fact that spiritual
development often far outruns that of the body, and in fact in a normal
development must do so, and also that in persons of precisely equal
bodily development, the spiritual ripeness may be very widely
different. In an as yet unmatured body there may be a mature spirit, in
a weak and ailing body, a strong spirit; this would be inconceivable on
the naturalistic hypothesis. But especially the moral development may
come to ripeness of character much earlier than the corporeal life;
growth in knowledge is much more dependent on the development of the
body; the understanding does not outrun the years, and children that
are early ripe intellectually, are usually morbid phenomena; but a very
youthful soul may acquire a real and firm moral character. The proverb,
"Youth is without virtue," in so far as it is meant to be an excuse, is
absolutely immoral and perverse.
In consequence of the normal super-ordination of the spirit to the
body, the spiritual development-stages do not coincide, in point of
time, with the corresponding bodily stages, but precede them somewhat.
The first stage is that of childlike innocence, where the child as yet
knows not how to distinguish between good and evil [Isa. vii, 16],
where, as yet, the moral consciousness slumbers, and the life-activity
does not spring from a will conscious of a moral purpose, but, on the
contrary, from unconscious feelings which are directly excited by
external or sensuous influences; hence an accountability proper cannot
as yet be presumed. The child has indeed propensions and aversions,
love and anger, and other states of feeling, but it does not have them
intelligently,--is not as yet in spiritual self-possession. Obedience
is, as yet, a mere scarcely-conscious following, taking its rise simply
from natural feelings and from the instinct of imitation, and which is
indeed a germ of morality, though not, as yet, actual morality, but is,
in-fact, also found to some extent among domesticated animals. The
typical character of children as presented by Christ [Matt. xviii, 3]
does not relate to any moral perfection in them, but only to their
receptiveness for moral impressions, to their innocence, to their
consciousness of need, and their readiness to believe.
The stage of transition, or youth, is the time when the person can
distinguish between good and evil, and where, consequently, there
exists a real moral consciousness, though not one that is thoroughly
formed and in every case self-determining, but only primarily a
consciousness of good and evil in general, and the particular
application of which in single cases is, for the most part, not left to
personal free self-determination, but to the guidance of educators. The
boy has the definite law, as yet, only in an objective manner, in the
will of his parents; his moral consciousness sketches only general
outlines,--for the more definite traits and shades it is as yet
dependent on some other, to him objective, consciousness. Hence the
most characteristic form of the morality of this period is obedience;
and the greatest danger to morality, so long as this partial
uncertainty yet remains, is the tendency, readily resulting from the
incipient consciousness of moral self-determination, to wish to
determine one's conduct in particular cases directly and immediately
from the, as yet, only general and indefinite moral
consciousness,--that is, the tendency to premature freedom, the
pleasure in an unregulated enjoyment of freedom, in arbitrary
self-determination. This in fact was the danger to which our first
parents fell a prey.
The stage of moral maturity, in a normal development, far more than
overtakes that of bodily ripeness. While civil law fixes the civil
majority, that is, the time of ripe understanding, at the period of
full bodily maturity, the moral community, the Church, declares man as
morally mature much earlier (confirmation); also the state fixes full
moral responsibility much earlier than the civil majority. These
distinctions rest on well-grounded experience. The young man knows not
merely moral duty in general, but he is also capable of conforming his
life thereto in particular. Obedience to parents or guardians assumes
now the form of obedience to the moral law, which latter indeed
includes the former, but no longer as an essentially unconditional
obedience, but simply as one that is to be subordinated to the moral
law. But a morally mature person can come into an actual conjuncture
where it is necessary to refuse obedience to parents, only on the
presupposition of a morally disordered state of humanity; and also
civil law finds in such obedience, after years of moral majority, no
excuse for criminal acts.
The becoming-childish of the aged would be a very weighty reason for
doubting of personal immortality, were it a normal phenomenon of old
age. When, however, we consider that even in the present sin-disordered
condition of the race, this becoming-childish is by no means a
necessary and universal phenomenon, but that, on the contrary, the
fruit of a morally-pious life--even in far advanced age, and despite
the otherwise slumber-like obscuration of the intellectual
faculties--is a heightening of the religious and moral consciousness,
and that even the better forms of heathenism consider reverence for the
moral wisdom of the aged as a high virtue,--we can readily, then, infer
from this, how little room there would be for a real becoming-childish
in any respect whatever in an unfallen state of humanity. Precisely
what would have been the characteristics of normal old age in a sinless
state, we know not; this much, however, we do know, that the life of an
immortal spirit, as being destined to a higher ennoblement or
transfiguration, and as not subject to a positive violent death, could
not be liable to a return to a state of moral minority,--at the
farthest it would only have prepared itself for this freely
self-accomplishing ennobling, by a greater turning away from earthly
things. All senility of age we can regard only as an absolutely
abnormal sin-born phenomenon, seeing that it stands in manifest
antagonism to the nature and destination of the personal spirit.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXVIII.
2. Differences of temperament--the different tempers of the spirit in
its bearing toward the outer world, as determined by differences of
bodily peculiarity. These differences are--as an expression of that
manifoldness of being which is necessary to the perfection of the
whole--per se good, and give rise to a vital reciprocalness of relation
among the members of society. As mere natural determinations of the
spirit they have primarily no moral significance; they receive such,
however, as conditions of the moral life. They do not constitute moral
character; on the contrary, they are, in their disproportionateness, to
be controlled by the character, and trained into virtue.--Related to
the temperaments are the normal differences in the natural
peculiarities of nations.
From a naturalistic stand-point great importance is attributed to
temperaments, as if they were original moral determinations. But that
which is original and merely natural is not as yet moral; it is only
the antecedent condition of the moral. Moral character is not
determined by nature, but only by the free action of man himself; in
proportion as we consider the moral as determined by nature, we destroy
its very essence. While the ancients considered the temperaments rather
in their purely corporeal significance, in recent times emphasis is
often given rather to their spiritually-moral significance, to the
detriment of morality. On this point there has been much fallacious
speculation, and the inclination is in many respects manifest, to
attempt to comprehend man in his moral peculiarity from mere
nature-circumstances, rather than honestly to look into his moral
nature--to search his heart; and men are very ready to excuse their
moral foibles and vices on the score of temperament; this course is
naturalistic, and, in fact, materialistic. Temperament is, essentially,
simply the normal basis on which morality is to develop itself; it does
not, however, itself determine the moral life-task, but only has
influence in throwing it into its peculiar form; he whose character is
shaped only by his temperament has no character. The moral character
stands above all temperament; and where there are different and opposed
temperaments like moral characters may be formed, and the converse.
Temperaments are not per se a peculiarity of the spirit, but are based
in that of the corporeal life, and pass over upon the spirit only by
virtue of a kind of communicatio idiomatum. It is usual to distinguish
four temperaments,--according to the susceptibility for external
influences, and to the active bearing toward the outer world: (1) that
which is very open for outward impressions, and is at the same time
more acted upon from without than self-active--the light, sanguine
temperament;--(2) that which is very open for outward impressions, but
is at the same time rather self-active, initiatively working, and
influencing the outer world--the warm, choleric temperament;--(3) that
which is less receptive for outward impressions, and at the same time
rather inactive, indifferent--the cool, phlegmatic temperament;--(4)
that which, while equally feebly-receptive for outward impressions, is
yet more active, storing up in itself what it receives--the heavy
melancholic temperament.--The types of temperament, however, do not
usually appear under these pure forms; generally they are commingled
and toned down. Nor does a temperament always remain the same, but it
changes with the outward relations and age of the person.
As the moral person is not to permit himself to be determined by the
irrational, but should himself freely determine himself on the basis of
the moral consciousness, hence he is all the more moral the more he
subordinates his temperament to his moral will,--not cultivating simply
those virtues which are more congenial to his temperament, as, for
example, friendliness in the sanguine, patience in the phlegmatic,
courage in the choleric, etc. Morality consists rather, on the
contrary, in the inner harmony of all the different moral phases, and
must consequently counteract the one-sidedness of any particular
temperament. The light temperament tends to frivolity, the warm to
passionateness and revenge, the cool to indifference and indolence, the
heavy to selfishness and narrowness. He who leaves his temperament
unbridled, cultivates not its virtue but its defect; for virtue is
never a mere nature-proclivity. As a peculiar endowment, temperament,
like every other endowment, must be morally shaped, and hence brought
into proper harmony with the moral whole of the life. No sin finds a
moral justification in temperament; and, on the other hand, only that
course of action is morally good which springs not merely from
temperament, but from the moral consciousness.
The differences of natural national peculiarities are related to the
difference of temperament. Also in a sinless state, a diversity among
nations, a difference of taste, etc., arising primarily from
differences of country, would be perfectly normal and necessary [Acts
xvii, 26]. As the mountaineer is different in his entire bodily and
spiritual temper from the dweller in the plain, the inhabitant of the
North from him of the Tropics, etc., so there arises therefrom a
diversity of forms of the moral life-work,--which, however, cannot come
into hostile antagonism with each other, but in fact constitute a
stimulating diversity, from which arises an all the greater and more
vital harmony of the whole. Labor and enjoyment, the family-life and
the life of society, will necessarily assume different forms; and the
proper development and preservation of the normal peculiarities of
nations form an essential feature of general moral perfection. It is
not as a progress of spiritual and moral culture, but to some extent as
a perversion thereof, that we must regard the tendency manifested in
recent times to sweep away, to a large extent, the peculiarities of
nations, and to bring about the greatest possible uniformity.
Manifoldness of language and spirit is not confusion, and it has, as
opposed to a bald, lifeless monotony, its legitimate moral right. The
sons of Jacob, as differing in character, imparted also a normal
difference to the tribes in Israel; nevertheless one spirit could and
should have pervaded them all.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXIX.
3. The difference of sex conditions a correspondingly different
peculiarity of the moral life-work. Man represents the outward-working,
productive phase of humanity, woman the receptive and formative,--he
more the spirit-phase, she more the nature-phase; in him preponderate
thought and will; in her rather the feelings, the heart; to man it is
more peculiar to act initiatively,--to woman rather, morally to
associate herself. The moral life-work of each is different in the
details, but in both it is of like dignity; it is simply two different
mutually-complementing phases of the same morality. The morality of
both sexes consists, in fact, in especially developing that phase of
the moral life that is peculiar to each,--not as strictly the same as,
but as in harmony with, the peculiarity of the other.
The antithesis of the two sexes is the highest spiritualized
manifestation of that primitive antithesis of the operative and the
reposing, the active and the passive, that conditions all earthly
life,--that assumes an endless variety of forms, and appears in each
single phenomenon of the world under some of its many forms of
combination. Nowhere do we find mere force, nowhere mere matter, but
every-where in nature both are united, and yet they are not the same.
What this primitive antithesis is in nature,--what the greater
antitheses of the light and the heavy, repulsion and attraction, motion
and rest, sun and planet, animal and plant, arteries and veins, etc.,
are,--this is, in highest refinement and perfection, the antithesis of
man and woman in humanity. That the nature-phase is somewhat more
prominent in woman than in man is evidenced also by the earlier
physical development and maturity of the female sex, and by the greater
dependence on nature and on the changes of the seasons in the entire
female sex-life. The higher intellectual power is undoubtedly with man,
and the moral subordination of woman to man in wedlock and in society
is an unmistakable law of universal order. The difference of the two
sexes is not to be t6ned down, but to be developed into moral harmony.
As an effeminate man or masculine woman is offensive to the esthetic
sense, and a hermaphrodite repugnant to uncorrupted feelings, and a
sexless form expressionless and unnatural, so also, in moral respects,
it is the duty of man to cultivate his manliness, and of woman to
cultivate her womanliness; and any assumption by one party of the
peculiarities of the opposite sex, is not only unnatural but also
immoral.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
II. THE COMMUNITY-LIFE AS A MORAL SUBJECT.
SECTION LXX.
Man is not simply an individual being, but, by virtue of his moral
rationality, which seeks everywhere to reduce the manifold to unity, he
effects also a moral community-life, a community of persons, to which
the individual is related as a serving member, and which has in turn
itself a definite moral life-purpose, to the fulfilling of which the
individual members are indeed called, though this moral life-purpose,
that is to be carried out by the individual, is not identical with the
life-work which he, as a personal individual, has to fulfill for
himself. A plurality of persons constitutes a moral community-life only
when, in virtue of a real common-consciousness, and a common moral
life-purpose, they are molded into a life-unity, so that the individual
members bring not only the whole into active relation to themselves,
but also and essentially themselves into active relation to the whole;
and the moral life of the individual is the more perfect the more it
develops itself into a life of the whole; and the ultimate goal of
moral development is, that all humanity become a unitary moral
community. The true morality of the individual assumes therefore always
a twofold form: one that is personally-individual, and one that is an
expression of the moral life-purpose of the community-life, and in the
name of which it fulfills that purpose; neither is subordinate to the
other, but they stand in vital reciprocity of relation.
The notion of the community-life as a moral subject is of very great
significance for ethics. Heathenism attained to it but very
imperfectly, inasmuch as the thought of the unity of mankind was
entirely wanting, and as where the community-life was most
prominent--in China--there only a naturalistic, mechanical world-theory
prevailed, and as, on the contrary, where the personal spirit came into
prominence--in the Occident--there it did so only in the form of the
strong individual will,--that is, the will did not appear as general
but as individual and arbitrary, so that the community-life itself bore
the impress of the individual will. In the Israelitic theocracy we
find, in virtue of the divine disciplinary purpose, only the embryonic
beginnings of the community-life; as yet, the morality of the
individual prevails over the collective morality. But to the idea of
the latter itself there is very clear allusion. The words, "I will make
of thee a great nation;... in thee shall all families of the earth be
blessed" [Gen. xii, 2, 3], are not a mere blessing, but they imply also
for Abraham a moral duty, namely, that he live not for himself, but
also for his people, and through them for the whole race,--that he work
and act not merely as Abram but as Abraham, as the father of nations
[Gen. xvii, 5]. Christianity brought the great idea to realization; the
truth that makes man truly free rendered again possible the founding of
a true moral community,--primarily as the Church, but then also as the
Christian state. The idea of moral communion becomes here at once a
fundamental one. Personal communion with the personal Son of God and of
Man as chief, creates the true, vital moral community-life; the
individual lives for the community and the community for the
individual, and both through Christ and for Christ. This circumstance
is very suggestive as to the moral destination of humanity as sinless.
The moral activity of the individual person as such is clearly to be
distinguished from the moral activity of the same as an embodiment of
the public morality. The mere circumstance, that in a state of
sinfulness these two forms of morality may appear in antithesis and
contradiction--that a man may perform his duty as a citizen to a
certain degree of serviceableness, while his personal morality stands
very low--shows that in the thing itself there is a real difference.
What I do as a vital member of the moral community--as it were out of
the spirit of the same, and to some extent, in the name of and as
representing the same, that is, what I do, not because I am a moral
individual, but because I belong, as a part, to a moral
community,--that must of course, under circumstances of moral maturity,
be in entire harmony with my personal moral disposition; but harmony is
not identity. As representing the moral community-life and the common
consciousness, my personal individual will retires essentially into the
back-ground, and the public spirit possesses me and guides me,--rules
sovereignly in me, and thrusts aside even my otherwise legitimate
individual weal. The warrior, in fighting for his country, acts not
from his personal individual will; he seeks, in case he enters into it
morally, nothing for himself, but every thing solely for his country;
he sacrifices his personal right to domestic happiness, to quiet labor,
to legitimate enjoyments, and even his life itself, for the
community,--not as a personal individual, but as a vital member of the
nation. The morality of the individual bears more a masculine, that of
the community more a feminine character, inasmuch as in the latter case
there is a predominancy of yielding to influence, of self-associating,
of devotion even to sacrifice. The moral honor of a community is other
than that of the individual; when the soldier defends the flag of his
regiment, it is not, or should not be, his own honor, but that of the
entire body, that prompts him; and where there is honor, there is also
morality.
The distinction of this twofold morality presents itself, under one of
the special forms of the second phase, namely, official morality, as
recognizable also outwardly. What the clergyman, the soldier, the judge
does officially, is also morality, but it is not by any means identical
with his personal morality, as is shown even by the fact of the
different degrees of censure incurred for violations of duty in the two
spheres. An untruth, a deception, perpetrated in official activity, is
much more severely punished, and deserves also severer moral rebuke,
than a like act done in non-official life. He who is acting in a public
capacity is not at liberty to overlook an offered indignity, while his
very first duty when insulted in a private capacity, is, to manifest a
readiness for reconciliation. The moral community often expresses this
difference in the fact that those who act principally and
professionally in its name, wear a special official garb, so that the
entire external appearance and bearing of such public persons are not
governed merely by their personally free self-determination. but bear
the impress of that which transcends the individual will, namely, the
community-life; personal character, while realizing public morality,
falls back behind the character of the community-life. Nevertheless it
is true that the whole moral activity and life of the individual
contributes essentially to the honor or shame of the family and of the
community to which he belongs [Lev. xxi, 9], so that consequently this
distinction of a twofold moral sphere of activity does not amount to a
real separation.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER II.
GOD AS THE GROUND AND PROTOTYPE OF THE MORAL LIFE AND AS THE AUTHOR OF THE LAW.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXI.
As morality is connected with religion in an indissolubly vital unity,
hence the God-consciousness is the necessary presupposition and
condition of morality, and the character and degree of the morality is
consequently also conditioned on the character and degree of the
God-consciousness, although a higher degree of the latter does not
necessarily work also a higher degree of morality. Hence true morality
is only there possible where there is a true God-consciousness, that
is, where God is not conceived of as in some manner limited, but as the
infinite Spirit in the fullest sense of the word. Only where the moral
idea has its absolutely perfect reality, in the personal holy God, has
morality a firm basis, true contents, and an unconditional goal.
If morality is in any manner conditioned by religion, then is also the
quality of this morality different in different religions. We have
already shown that morality is not conditioned by the mere
God-consciousness, but only by it as having grown into religion, for a
God-consciousness which does not become a religious one, but remains
mere knowledge, cannot become a moral power; and this is the simple
explanation of the fact, that while a feebler God-consciousness cannot
produce a higher degree of morality, yet a higher God-consciousness
does not necessarily create also a higher degree of morality,--namely,
when it does not develop itself into a religious life-power. When it
does so develop itself, however, then it is unconditionally true that
the degree of morality perfectly corresponds to the degree of
God-consciousness;--otherwise we would be forced to modify our
previously assumed position, that religion and morality are two
indissolubly united and mutually absolutely conditioning phases of one
and the same spiritual life. Where God is conceived of as merely an
unspiritual nature-force, as in China and India, there morality cannot
rest on the free moral personality of man, but, on the contrary, it
must throw the personality into the back-ground as illegitimate; where
the divine is conceived of only in the form of an antagonism of
mutually hostile divinities, as with the Persians, there the moral idea
lacks its unconditional obligatoriness, and in fact the contra-moral
has its relative justification; and where the divine is conceived of as
a plurality of limited individual personalities, there the sphere of
morality is invaded by the pretensions of the arbitrarily
self-determining subject, and moral action lacks a solid basis. It is
only where there is a consciousness of the infinite personal Spirit
that both the moral personality is free, and the moral idea absolutely
unconditional and sure. The heathen do not really have the divine law;
they have only, lying in the very nature of the rational spirit, an
unconscious presentiment of the same [Rom. ii, 14, 15].--Though
Polytheism is with us no longer in fashion, still we are all the more
infested with Pantheism, or such a form of Deism as differs therefrom
only by an unscientific arbitrary inconsequence,--not, however, by any
means with that vigorous and comparatively respectable Pantheism of
India which drew, with moral earnestness, the full practical
consequence of its world-theory, and presented in an
actually-carried-out renunciation of the world the very contrary of our
natural and legitimate claim to happiness,--but, on the contrary, with
a Pantheism that is in every respect morbid and characterless, and
which, greedy of enjoyment, delights itself in a world robbed of God.
Pantheism lacks the antecedent condition of all morality, namely,
personal freedom; with the universal prevalence of unconditional
necessity there is no place for choice and self-determination; it also
lacks a moral purpose, seeing that it knows no ideal,
reality-transcending goal of morality, but, on the contrary, must
acknowledge the real as per se the fulfillment of the ideal, that is,
as good,--and for the reason that that which appears as a goal of
life-development, is, in fact, realized from necessity; it lacks also a
moral motive, for the sole causative ground of the absolutely necessary
life-development is, as unfree and as unfreely-acting, non-moral,--is
only a conscious nature-impulse. On the assumption that the entire
being and activity of the individual is simply a necessary expression
of the existence and life which God generates for himself in the world,
it follows that each and every being is fully and perfectly justified
in whatever nature and activity he may chance to appear, and no one can
reproach another because of any seeming moral depravity. The moral
tendencies of Pantheism, and of the therewith essentially identical
Naturalism, must not be judged of from individual instances of men who
are still unconsciously imbued with the moral spirit of the community,
but rather from the effects that result where this world-theory has
taken hold on the masses,--as at the time of the Reign of Terror in
France, and in the bearing and aspirations of our more recent
demagogues of reform, nearly all of whom are imbued with Pantheistic
views.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXII.
The personal God is the basis of the moral, (1) in that He, as holy
will, is the eternal fountain and embodiment of the moral idea. The
good is not a mere object of a possible willing, not merely ought to be
willed, but is eternally willed by an eternal will, and is nothing
other than the contents of this will itself; God is the absolutely
moral spirit, the holy spirit--perfectly at one with himself in his
free personality, and eternally self-consistent,--and who as such
guarantees to the moral life-task of his free creatures, full truth,
unconditional and permanent validity as God's requirement, and unshaken
certainty, and perfect, constant unity and consistency.
Outside of the Christian God-consciousness the moral idea lacks all
certainty and strength. It is easy to say, that we should do the good
for its own sake, that the moral law presents itself as a "categorical
imperative," but in the reality of life such generalities will not
avail. For a mere idea without any sort of reality, no human heart can
grow actively warm; here there is at best only an intellectual
interest, but not a morally-practical one. The validity of the moral
idea must have a deeper basis than a mere intellectual process. Before
I can do the good for its own sake, I must love it; before I love it, I
must with full certainty know it. So long as I am in doubt as to what
is good, or as to whether there is any good, I have no object of love.
The essence of the good, however, implies that the same is not my
merely subjective opinion, but that it is universally valid--good per
se. Now, should I leave the God-consciousness out of sight, then there
would remain for me, in order to determine the unconditional validity
of a supposed moral precept, and to avoid the possibility of a mere
arbitrary judgment, no other resort than the impracticable test of
Kant. [8] ." Suppose, however, that, apart from religious faith, there
were in fact a scientific source for a certain knowledge of the moral
law, still this would not yet answer the purpose;--not every one can be
a philosopher, but all are required to be moral. Hence the moral
consciousness cannot be based on mere scientific demonstrations, but
must have a basis available for all rational men; now just such a
resource is the God-consciousness. So soon as I know that a mode of
action is God's will, then am I perfectly certain that it is good, that
it has universal and unconditional validity;--I have not to infer that
because it is universally valid, therefore it is God's will, but the
converse. Without certainty of moral consciousness there can be no
moral confidence; in this connection all doubt works ruin. The question
is as to certainty of moral consciousness, and hence essentially as to
God's will's becoming known to me.
So soon as there exists a consciousness of God, all good must be
referred absolutely to God's will; whatever God wills is good, and
whatever is good is God's will. The divine order of the world assumes,
in the sphere of the free will of creatures, the form of a moral
command; the "must" becomes a "should;" this is not a lowering, but an
exalting of the law, for freely realized good is higher than the
unfreely realized, seeing that God himself is freedom. If a moral duty
is God's will, then I am also further certain that it cannot be in real
conflict with other moral duties. This is the high moral significancy
of faith in the living God, namely, that it alone can give a full unity
and certainty to the moral consciousness; with every limitation of the
idea of God the moral consciousness also becomes uncertain and
doubtful. Hence the Scriptures, even in the Old Testament, attribute
such high significancy to the unity and unchangeableness of the holy
and almighty God as moral law-giver, and base thereon, in contrast to
heathenism, all morality,--as, for example, in Gen. xvii, 1; Deut. vi,
4 sqq.; x, 14, 17. In the first passage God's omnipotence is emphasized
in order to awaken in man a consciousness of his dependence; inasmuch
as all existence is absolutely in God's hand, therefore should also
man's free activity subordinate itself to Him,--therefore also is the
sinful effort to be independent of God, that is, to be equal to God,
unmitigated folly. Hence also he, who walks before the Almighty, has
the assurance that he will attain to his goal; thou canst, for the
reason that thou shouldst, for it is God who places upon thee the
"should."
But the certainty of the moral idea is only one of its phases, the
other is its actuating power. It is true, the idea itself of the good
should move the will; but its power is immeasurably greater When it is
itself the expression of a holy will than when it merely speaks to the
human will. It is the sacred awe of the Holy One that lends it this
power. In a mere idea I can have pleasure, but it cannot inspire me
with awe. The command that emanates from the Living One, gives life; a
mere idea pre-supposes life as a condition of its efficacy. The moral
idea becomes truly influential on the personal spirit only by its being
the actual will of a personal God. "The statutes of the Lord are right,
rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening
the eyes" [Psa. xix, 8].
The question: is a thing good because God wills it, or does God will it
because it is good? contains for us no contradiction. It would do so,
however, if the first clause meant, that it is accidental and arbitrary
that God declares this or that to be good, and that He might also just
as well have declared good the very opposite (Duns Scotus, Occam,
Descartes, Pufendorf). God cannot will anything else than what is
God-like--corresponding to his nature; this "cannot" is a limitation
only in the form of expression, in reality it is the highest
perfection. A being that can come into contradiction and antagonism
with itself, is not perfect. If the good is that which corresponds to
the divine nature, and if God's will is necessarily an expression of
his nature, then, whatever is good is good because God wills it, and
God wills it because it is good. God's declaration: "I am that I am"
[Exod. iii, 14] is valid also for his holy volitions. The idea of the
good is not something existing without and apart from God, it is a
direct beam from his inner nature.
__________________________________________________________________
[8] Namely: "Act so that the maxim of thy conduct shall be adapted to
become a universal law for all men
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXIII.
God is the basis of the moral, (2), in that He reveals himself in his
universe as the Holy One,--discovers himself to man as the prototype of
the moral, as the personally holy pattern after which man should form
himself. In this consciousness of God as prototype of the moral, man
conceives morality as Godlikeness, and himself,; in his true moral
dignity, as God's image and as a child of God.
The idea of a moral self-revelation of God is of wide-reaching moral
significancy. Heathenism knows nothing of such a self-revelation; it is
true, in the higher heathen religions, moral laws are referred to a
divine origin, but this signifies simply either a revelation of the
general laws of world-order, or, at best, a revelation of the divine
will in regard to men, but not of the real moral nature of God.
According to the Christian world-view, the good is not merely to be
realized, but it exists already in full reality from eternity; morality
is not to create something absolutely new, but only to shape the
created after the model of its divine Creator; the free creature is to
become like the holy God,--to come into free harmony, not simply with a
naked idea but with an eternal reality. As a consequence of this,
morality has an incomparably higher certainty and vitality than if the
moral law appeared merely under the form of an idea. There can be no
more convincing logic than the word: "Ye shall be holy, for I the Lord
your God am holy" [Lev. xix, 2; xi, 44, 45; xx, 7; comp. Deut. x, 17
sqq.; 1 Pet. i, 15, 16; Eph. v, 1]; and Christ himself repeatedly
presents the moral essence of God as the true pattern for man, both in
general and in particular [Matt. v, 48; Luke vi, 36]. Even as in
education there is no better moral instruction than that by personal
example, so is there also in the moral education of humanity no more
deeply influential moral revelation than that of the holy personality
of God; and as the child naturally seeks not so much to realize a
lifeless law as to become like a beloved and revered personal example,
so is it likewise the case in the moral development of humanity in
general; and this is not childlike immaturity, but rational truth; and
herein also is the child a proper example. In realizing morality man
does not present himself in the All as a solitarily-shining star, but
as a God-loved and God-loving image of the invisible God,--as a human
resplendence of His holiness.
A much deeper impression than that made by the revelation of the holy
personality of God through speech, is made by the revelation of the
same by actual reality in the person of Christ. We cannot answer here
the oft proposed question as to whether the Son of God would have
become man even had not sin entered into the world; the Scriptures give
us on this point no decision; and even those who affirm it do not place
the advent of the perfect man at the beginning of the race. Hence, even
in this view, the coming of Christ is not held as a necessary condition
of the moral life. But as Christ is in fact not merely the Redeemer
suffering for and through sin, but also the true personal manifestation
of the perfect image of God--the absolutely perfect prototype of human
morality,--hence, for us, who are no longer in the condition of
original sinlessness, the knowledge of pure morality is essentially
conditioned on a knowledge of Christ. The first sin-free human beings
needed not this historically-personal example in order to have a
truthful moral consciousness, and to be able to realize morality; but
we need it--we who have had to be redeemed from the curse and power of
sin; we need, also as a help to a knowledge of the morality of unfallen
man, this example that did not rise out of sin but stood above it. In a
much higher degree, in fact, than Christ is the example for the
redeemed, Is he the true criterion for a knowledge of unfallen human
nature; for there is much in the moral life of the Christian for which
Christ's own life cannot be a direct example; for instance, the
continuous struggle against the still-remaining sin in the human
heart,--in Christ there was no such struggle; to him every thing that
was sinful was foreign and external, but never inward and personal. On
the. contrary, there could be nothing in the moral life, of unfallen
man which could not be directly connected with the person of Christ,
though indeed, not all the special phases of human morality could have
their particular expression in the life of Christ. Thus we have
occasion here to make at least allusion to Christ.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXIV.
God is the basis of the moral, (3), in that, omnipresently ruling and
judging in his universe, He wisely, lovingly, and justly guides and
furthers toward its eternal goal the moral life of his creatures,
without, however; interfering with their moral freedom. This
consciousness gives to the moral life full confidence and joy in the
fulfillment of the divine will, and the proper fear of all that is
ungodly.
The thought of a merely impersonal moral world-order may seem in itself
simple and attractive; for real life, however, it is of no efficiency.
Even the proud equanimity of the Stoic is unable definitively to find
any better remedy for the antagonism of the reality of existence with
his self-conceived ideals, than suicide; and those who, in recent
times, assuming that the Christian World-view is gloomy and
unhumanitarian, prefer to it the domination of eternal impersonal
necessity, and explain away all evil and anarchy as mere appearance,
gain after all from this pretended self-explaining and all-reconciling
view, little other profit than a complacent satisfaction with
themselves and with their own system.. So long as man cannot rid
himself of his consciousness of freedom and of the possibility of its
misuse, as well as of his consciousness of the reality of evil in the
world, just so long will the notion of a world-order unembodied in a
personal God prove to be powerless. The Greek had a much higher
world-theory than that of ordinary Pantheism, and yet he could not
explain away the antagonism that exists between the moral life and
non-moral fate, or the excess of real evil; and he gave utterance, in
his noblest intellectual productions, either to a melancholy lament
over the mysterious tragedy of life, or to a blank hopelessness as to
the triumph of the good. Greek tragedy is, by far, more moral than the
anti-Christian Pantheism of recent date. To feel and bewail the
antagonism of existence even with out-spoken hopelessness, approximates
more nearly the truth than to explain it away with delusive sophistry.
In a world where the misuse of moral freedom may create evil and
disturb the harmony of existence, there can be hopefulness and
confidence in moral effort only in virtue of a firm faith in the
personally-ruling almighty and holy God; without this there is for the
rational spirit no possibility of an unshaken conviction that a truly
moral conduct will, in fact, bring real fruit, and not prove to be a
useless vain undertaking, an empty play of a restless
activity-instinct.--We are here as yet not dealing with a world
actually disordered by sin; but also for the unfallen state all moral
effort becomes impossible, becomes even idle folly, so soon as we
assume even the possibility of a disturbance of the harmony of the
world,--unless there exists at the same time the consciousness of a
holy God freely ruling above all creature-life, and conducting the
moral order of the universe. But the possibility of such a disturbance
through the misuse of freedom, is directly implied in the idea of
freedom. Hence the notion of a merely general world-order without a
personally-ruling God does not suffice, even for the unfallen state, to
give to moral effort the necessary confidence. The question is here as
to a certainty not merely that the moral efforts of the individual will
bear the expected fruit for himself,--though we must consider this also
as a perfectly legitimate claim,--but also, in general, that his moral
efforts will not be in vain for the furtherance of the perfection of
the whole,--will not be counteracted by the possibly interfering power
of evil. Without the confidence that by virtue of the all-potent wisdom
of the personal God, all truly moral effort will bear legitimate fruit,
and that evil can never prevent him who continues faithful, from
reaching the last and highest goal of the moral, and that consequently
the anarchy that evil Brings into the world will fall only on the heads
of the evil-doers, while even the "prince of this world" can effect
nothing against the just [John xiv, 30],--without this confidence, the
courage and vitality of all morality are paralyzed. Also in the
unfallen state human knowledge must still be limited,--must be unable
to see into the ultimate depths and ends of existence, and least of all
into the future. Hence, without confidence there is no means of rising
above doubt as to the success of moral effort, and consequently also of
a degree of discouragement in the same. The true moral courage is not a
blind defiance of fate, but a rejoicing in the consciousness that all
things work to the good of those who love God [Rom. vii, 28], and that
"in Him we live and move and have our being" [Acts xvii, 28],--that
God, the ground and source of all morality, is not far from any one of
us, but works in and with us for the accomplishment of his holy
will.--And as effort for the good can be potent only through confidence
in God, so also is the moral dread of evil effectual only through the
fear of God. Not as if a mere fear of punishment were to restrain man
from evil, but rather a holy awe of the holy and all-knowing God. This
is also fear,--not, however, slavish, selfish fear, but moral
reverence, befitting shame in the presence of the pure and holy One. To
say that man should shun evil even irrespectively of God, is empty
talk; if he believes in God, then he cannot leave Him out of thought at
the sight of evil; and if he believes not in God, then he believes also
not in the holiness of the moral command, and he will in fact not shun
the evil,--he will simply deny it, as modern observation proves. The
fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and also of morality [Psa.
cxi, 10]; "fear the Lord and keep his commandments," says the Preacher
[Eccles. xii, 13]; this is the fundamental idea of morality in the Old
Testament [comp. Deut. x, 12, 13]. There is one Lawgiver and Judge who
is able to save and destroy [James iv, 12]; in the unity of the
lawgiver and judge lies the guarantee and holy potency of morality.
Whoever believes, not merely in an All, but in the living God, and
knows that all that is hidden from human eyes is known to the
all-knowing One, and that all secret sins rest under the curse of Him
who can kill and make alive, who can wound and heal, and out of whose
hand there is none that can deliver [Deut. xxvii, 15 sqq.; xxxii,
39],--such a one will evidently have a very different dread of evil
from that of him who regards it as a mere world-inherent necessary
transition-stage to perfection.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXV.
God is the basis of the moral, (4), in that as holy Lawgiver he reveals
his eternal, holy will in time. The totality of created being is, in
the design of the creative will, to be in harmony with God and with
itself. The idea of this harmony, as active in God under the form of
will, is God's law. Unfree creatures have it as an inner necessity, and
must fulfill it; free creatures have it as a moral command, and should
fulfill it; for the former it exists as an unconscious instinct or
impulse, for the latter it is revealed; as God's law, it is made known
to rational creatures by revelation. The moral law is therefore the
revealed will of God as to the rational creature,--namely, that the
same should bring its entire life, consciously and with free will, into
harmony with God's purpose.
A law which cannot be derived from God's will is not a moral law, but
at best a civil one. That the moral law is based in the inner essence
of the human reason is not controverted by the proposition, that it is
God's will, but it is in fact confirmed. Human reason is conditioned by
the same divine will which wills the good; and as, among the goods
which God himself created, the highest is reason, hence the inner
essence of the reason must involve also the moral,--not, however, as
something conditioned independently of God, but in fact as God's will
revealed to the reason, in so far as the latter has kept itself
unclouded. However, this moral law, as immanent in the reason, is not
to be conceived as implying that the rational will gives law unto
itself; it is the part of the will to submit itself to the law, but not
to give it; the moral law is above the will, above human reason in
general; and the latter, in its consciousness of the same, recognizes
it in fact as divine, and consequently as absolutely valid and beyond
the scope of human determination. As little as man can give to himself
reason and its dialectical laws, so little can he give to himself moral
law. Freedom of will has to do only with the fulfilling, but not with
the conditioning of the law. The morally cognizing reason simply finds
revealed within itself the divine law, but does not make it. The
Scriptures uniformly present the moral law as being essentially the
will of God, without, however, thereby interfering with the idea that
the same is the expression of the inner purpose of being itself. "Be ye
transformed," says Paul, [Rom. xii, 2], "by the renewing of your mind,
that ye may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of
God;" the "will" of God is here the fundamental; any thing is "good"
only because it expresses the will of God which is itself good per se;
the "acceptable" is that which is good relatively to the spirit that is
contemplating it,--that excites approbation in the rational spirit, and
is in harmony therewith,--in a word, that is in harmony with God and
his thoughts, and with God-related spirit in general; and the
"perfect," the goal-attaining, is whatever is the realization of the
divine and good end. Thus the apostle expresses the essence of the good
under all its phases; the good is good both as to its origin, as to the
cognizing spirit, and as to its end.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXVI.
In treating of the moral law as the expression of the divine will, we
have two points to consider, first, the communication of this law by
God to man, and then its inner essence.
I. THE REVELATION OF THE DIVINE WILL TO MAN.
This revelation reveals to us not only the contents of the divine law,
but must also reveal it as the divine will. This manifestation of the
holy will of God is of a twofold character. In reason, which is the
more especial embodiment of the divine image, and which is consequently
the God-ward phase of man, man has the power of recognizing the divine
will in regard to reason,--the rational life-purpose of the rational
spirit. Hence, by virtue of his rationality, man has the divine law in
himself as a personal knowledge attained to through free
self-development. The divine will-revelation is therefore primarily an
inner revelation within the rational spirit conditioned by the creative
will itself. As, however, this knowledge cannot be a directly-given
one, but must be first attained to by morally-spiritual activity, hence
it cannot be for morality the sufficient antecedent condition. There is
a necessity therefore, in order to the commencement of the
morally-rational life of humanity, of a special training of the same by
God unto moral knowledge,--of a direct extraordinary objective
revelation by means of which man may have from the very beginning a
definite consciousness as to the divine will, and a firm guarantee of
the truth.
__________________________________________________________________
(a) The extraordinary, positive and supernatural revelation of the
divine will, in the educative guidance of man by God, precedes indeed
his own reason-knowledge as arising from the inner, general, natural
revelation, but in a normal development of man it then gradually
retires into the back-ground in proportion as his spiritual ripening
advances. Its purpose is to awaken rational knowledge, and to conduct
the awakened spirit to its spiritual majority; and hence it involves
the virtualizing of the moral freedom and of the independent
personality of the rational spirit.
The seeming contradiction that lies in the facts, that rational
knowledge cannot be given in an immediate and ready form, but must be
first attained to through moral effort, and that, on the other hand,
all moral activity presupposes already the consciousness of the moral,
is reconciled solely and simply by the fact that the creating God is
also an educating one,--that He reveals to man Himself and his
will,--even as also the child does not ripen to reason and maturity by
being abandoned to itself, but by being educated by reason and to
reason,--by having the moral consciousness which as yet slumbers in it
awakened by instruction, and, when once awakened, then strengthened by
actual moral example. Without instruction and training the child never
becomes a truly rational person; and when, in harmony with the
Christian system, we affirm the same thing of the first man, we do not
thereby state anything inconsistent with the nature of man, but in fact
simply that which is implied in the very nature of rational
spirit-development. If for a moment we should, with Rousseau, conceive
of the first generations of man as in a condition of animal unculture,
creeping on all fours, and without speech, then we are utterly unable
to learn from any of the champions of this theory in what manner these
human-like animals could ever attain to reason and to a moral
consciousness. We have in fact, in the case of the uncivilized tribes
of the race--who, low as they are, are yet not so low as the
above-supposed semi-men,--positive proof that man when once sunk into
the condition of a savage never again rises to a higher culture, of his
own strength.
Without a consciousness of God and of his will, man is as yet, on the
whole, not rational; but man was created by God after his own image,
and hence unto reason and unto morality. This implies of itself that
this consciousness was necessarily shared in even by the first man. Now
as man knows nothing of nature save as nature communicates herself to
him through sensuous impressions, so also can man know nothing of God
unless God reveals himself to him; and in fact a God who should not
reveal himself is utterly unconceivable. If now a consciousness of the
moral, that is of God's will, is the necessary antecedent condition of
all moral activity, and if, at the same time, all real rational
knowledge springs from a moral using of such knowledge, then is it
perfectly self-evident that the beginning of this knowledge must have
been directly prompted by God himself. The fact that this first
revelation is termed, in distinction from the self-wrought-out
knowledge, an extraordinary and supernatural one, does not imply that
it stands in contradiction or antagonism to the inner revelation in the
self-developing spirit. On the contrary it is for the development of
humanity in general both very natural and in harmony with general
order; for, all life of individual objects, both in the spiritual and
in the natural world, requires a first stimulation, an awakening
influence from other already developed objects and beings; and this
stimulating rises toward educative training in proportion as the
perfection of the species rises; man has therefore, by virtue of his
rational nature, a claim upon an educative influence from the rational
spirit; and this is in fact the historical revelation. Man is not by
his birth or creation already really a morally-rational spirit, he
becomes so only by an educative influence from the rational spirit, and
hence, in the case of the first man, from a primarily objective
revelation from God. This revelation, however, does not remain in this
objective character, but, in stimulating man to a moral consciousness
and to moral activity, it brings him to the inner revelation in the
rational nature of man himself--to a consciousness of his own
God-likeness, and hence also to a consciousness of the divine
prototype. The first man sustained to God an absolutely child-like
relation, as to an educating father; and such is precisely the Biblical
account of the primitive state. If we do not presuppose such an
educative primitive revelation of the moral, then, either the moral law
would have to exist, (as in irrational nature-creatures, so also in
man) as a direct instinctive impulse,--in which case man would not be a
moral being, but only a peculiar species of animal; or, a rational
knowledge of the moral would have to be already created in him,--which
would be contrary to all our notions of man's spiritual development,
and surely a much greater miracle than the one which it was designed to
dispense with. That which has no need of training is either not a
rational being, or it is God himself. The educative revelation
presupposes indeed a corresponding moral endowment in man; but this
moral endowment, the unconscious germ of the moral, has need, in order
to its developing itself into reality, of a spiritual training. This
training does not create the moral consciousness, but only awakens
it--gives to it primarily definite contents, which the thus stimulated
morally rational consciousness then perceives as not in antagonism but
as in harmony with itself, and for that very reason appropriates to
itself.
In order to man's being really moral he must be conscious that in his
free acting he freely subordinates himself to the will of God; but he
can do this only when he recognizes the moral, not merely as such, but
also as being of divine origin, and this he can do only when he
distinguishes the divine will from his own; this distinguishing,
however, is possible, for the first man, only when the divine will
presents itself to him as other than his own, as objective to
him,--when God expressly reveals himself to him. On this definite
distinguishing of one's own personal, from the divine will, depends all
morality; a merely unconscious following of propension is not moral,
but immoral. Man must become conscious that he does this or that act
not simply because it pleases him, but that it pleases him because it
pleases God. In this conscious, discriminating, free choosing of the
divine will as distinguished from the merely natural individual will,
man is expected to discover his essential difference from nature, his
belonging to the kingdom of God; he is to learn to distinguish between
"can" and "should," between his ability and his obligation, and thus to
become conscious of his moral destination to freedom. Were the moral
consciousness or the moral impulse inborn in man, then he could not
come to a consciousness of his freedom--of his ability morally to rise
above his merely individual being, and freely to choose the divine.
Herein lies the high moral significancy of the notion of an historical
divine revelation. In the interest of freedom, in the interest of the
training of man into a moral personality, we would have been forced
philosophically, to presuppose such a revelation, did we not already
know of it from Biblical teaching.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXVII.
(b) The inner revelation of the holy will of God in the rational
consciousness of man is not a mere instinctive impulse, as this is the
characteristic of irrational nature-creatures, nor is it a mere
feeling, inasmuch as this, so far as relating to spiritual things,
always presupposes a knowledge, a consciousness, but it is a real
consciousness, which, however, is at first only obscure and indefinite,
and receives more definite contents only through educative revelation,
whereby it is developed into full clearness. The inner and the
objective revelations, though differing from each other as to the order
of their taking-place and as to their form, do not differ in their
essential contents, nor indeed as to their certainty; and the objective
revelation is no more rendered superfluous by the inner one, than is
the latter by the former; each mutually calls for the other.
Just as the educative influencing of the child does not render
superfluous its own active moral self-development, but in fact calls
for the same as its end, and as the latter without the former is not
possible, so is it also with the twofold revelation. If the historical
revelation did not lead to a knowledge of the moral law as immanent in
the reason itself, man would remain in perpetual nonage,--would not
come to a consciousness of his rationality; in fact this revelation has
its own withdrawal into the back-ground as its ultimate end,--as indeed
since the accomplishment of redemption it has actually, in a large
degree, so withdrawn.--By inner revelation, here, is not to be
understood a real inspiration as in the case of the prophets, for this
would in fact be supernatural and extraordinary; it is simply the
gradual coming forward of the divine image in man,--the rational
spirit's becoming-conscious of itself as such image. This
becoming-conscious on the part of one's own rational nature is properly
called a revelation, for the reason that this God-likeness is not
conditioned by man himself but is created by God in the state of a
germ, and is by the free activity of man, simply developed. The
positive revelation is the light whereby this divine image, hidden in
man's inner nature, becomes visible to his understanding, or more
properly, it is the warming sunlight under whose influence the germ of
rationality unfolds itself out of secrecy into day. The inner
revelation is neither in antagonism to, nor is it identical with, the
objective; it is no more in antagonism therewith than is man's own
active self-development to moral maturity in antagonism with his
training received from others; nor is it so nearly identical therewith
as to amount to a repetition of the same thing. Their respective
difference of origin continues to hold good also for the morally
mature; even for the regenerated Christian, though he possesses the law
of the Spirit as a living power within him, the historical revelation
continues to serve as a permanent unvarying basis for the development
of his moral consciousness, and as a sure criterion for testing the
truth of the light within him; Christ came not to destroy the law.--As
in their origin, so also in their form, they are different; the
positive revelation bears a thoroughly historical character; the inner,
a psychological. The former assumes the form of positive laws given at
particular times, and through particular personal instrumentalities;
the latter is continuous in every individual throughout his life.
On this inner revelation through the God-likeness of the rational
spirit the Scriptures lay some stress, notwithstanding that they speak
of it simply in connection with man as perverted by sin, in whom the
natural consciousness of God and of his will is seriously obscured and
in need of special illumination,--for which reason the natural inner,
and the supernatural inner, revelations are not strictly and formally
distinguished. In allusion to moral wisdom, it is said: "It is the
spirit in man, the breath of the Most High, that gives him
understanding" [Job xxxii, 8; comp. Prov. xx, 27]; and it is prophesied
of the new Covenant: "I will put my law in their inward parts, and
write it in their hearts" [Jer. xxxi, 33],--as in contrast to the Old
Covenant under which the law was predominantly objective and in sharp
antagonism to the sin-blinded heart. But what is true of the New
Covenant is likewise true of the unfallen state. This prophecy refers,
it is true, to the working of the Holy Spirit, but unfallen man was per
se already filled with this Spirit. Paul speaks of a natural
consciousness of God and of the moral, even in the heathen [Rom. i, 19
sqq.]; by how much more must this be true of man as unfallen. This
natural God-consciousness is the general manifestation of that "life"
which was the light of men [John i, 4].
It is a favorite manner with some to speak of a moral "feeling," and
even of a moral instinctive "impulse," as the primitive germ which
subsequently develops itself into a moral consciousness. If by such
feeling or impulse so much is meant as a knowledge as yet indistinct--a
presentiment rather than a comprehension,--we can readily admit it,
though in any case the expressions are very inappropriate, and serve
only to confusion. Understood in their proper sense, we must
emphatically reject them; for feeling is simply an immediate
becoming-conscious of a state occasioned in the subject by an
impression, and is hence always of a merely subjective and strictly
individual nature, whereas the moral law is per se necessarily
objective and universal--an idea; an idea cannot be felt, but must be
known, though indeed this knowledge may be primarily as yet indistinct.
A direct feeling can be occasioned only by a sensuous impression; of
spiritual things I can have a feeling properly so-called, only after
they have become an object of my cognizing consciousness; every feeling
presupposes either a sensuous impression or an idea, a conception. To
consider feeling, in the sphere of the religiously-moral, as the
fundamental antecedent condition before all knowledge, is simply to
confound an, as yet indistinct, anticipatory consciousness with feeling
proper, and poorly serves to the attainment of scientific clearness.
Still less can we speak of a moral impulse; in the strict sense of the
word, as the primitive antecedent; an impulse that does not rest on a
moral consciousness belongs not to the sphere of the moral but to that
of the merely natural, and in the exact proportion that we attribute
power to some such pretended impulse, we violate the freedom of the
will. If an unconscious impulse toward the good is the primitive
antecedent in man, then is a choice of the evil utterly impossible. If,
however, we should assume, as the primitive condition, that there were
in man contradictory impulses, the one toward the good, the other
toward the evil, still we would not, by this anarchical duality,
safeguard the freedom of the will, if we did not assume as above these
mutually conflicting impulses, also a higher moral
consciousness,--whereby in fact the hypothesis itself would be
destroyed.
__________________________________________________________________
SECTION LXXVIII.
The revelation of the divine will to the moral subject, as given in the
rational self-consciousness, is the conscience. This is not an
originally ready power, but, as given at first only in germ, it must be
developed,--stands in need of culture, primarily by God himself, and,
in all after the first generation. by the already morally-matured
spirit of men; and with its further moral development it constantly
becomes more definite, more clear and more rich in contents. Now, as
sin separates man from God and from the knowledge of Him, and also
damagingly affects the moral training received from others, it is clear
that the conscience has its full purity and power only in a sinless
state.--As relating to the moral life-manifestations, the conscience
appears as a morally-judging power, and as such it is either in harmony
with the particular manner of action--in which case it awakens a joyous
feeling of approval,--or it is in antagonism therewith, and in this
case it awakens a painful feeling of disapproval; and either feeling
prompts to a corresponding course of action. As the conscience is a
revelation of the moral law as the divine will, hence it never exists
without a God-consciousness,--it is itself, in fact, one of the phases
of this consciousness, and is per se of a religious character, and is
inexplicable from the mere world-consciousness. In its germ it is a
primitive and not a derived power, and in this sense it is already
presupposed on the entrance of the positive divine revelation. The
actual acceptance of this revelation is of itself already a moral act
which presupposes the conscience; but the latter is excited to activity
and to full development only by the positive revelation. Conscience is
essentially an integral part of man's God-likeness,--is, like
rationality in general, a divine life-power imparted to the creature.
The conscience is in its essence, not different from the
God-consciousness, but is only the bearing of the God-consciousness
upon the moral; as relating to the good, it relates also to God, for
none is good but God alone [Matt. xix, 17]; and God is the criterion of
all good, for the good is the God-answering; a conscience which is not
a God-consciousness is a perverted, an unanchored one. As the
conscience is an inner revelation of God to man, we place its
discussion in this section, although it is an essential element of the
moral subject.--The manners of conceiving of the conscience differ very
widely; it is, in turn, regarded either as a cognizing consciousness,
or as a feeling, or as an instinctive impulse; and consequently it is
sought for in all the different spheres of the soul-life; it is indeed
true that the conscience cannot be real without embracing in itself all
three of these spheres; and hence the word may be used in all three
significations. In the expression: "Conscience says to me," or "it
approves this and rejects that," it is conceived of as a cognizing,
judging consciousness; but we also speak of a joyous, or a chastising
conscience; and again we say: "conscience compels me to this act or
deters me from it." The question, however, is: which of the three
phases is the primitive, the fundamental one? which constitutes the
essence of the conscience? According to what we have previously said as
to the relation of feeling and willing to the cognizing consciousness,
it follows very plainly that the essence of the conscience is to be
found in that which its name directly expresses in various languages,
namely, a being-certain, hence a certain knowing, a cognizing
consciousness; in the New Testament the term suneidesis--(from sunoida,
conscious sum, strictly: "I am a fellow-knower," and in a higher sense:
"I know with God," in whom all knowledge centers),--an associate
knowing with God, in virtue of his indwelling in rational creatures, is
used of the conscience, both in so far as it leads to the good (agathe
suneidesis, or kale or kathara), and in so far as, by reproving, it
punishes evil [John viii, 9]; and the same word is used also directly
in the sense of religious consciousness, presenting the conscience as a
consciousness of the divine will [1 Peter ii, 19; Rom. xiii, 5; Heb.
ix, 9]. The conscience, as differing from the enlightening influence of
the Holy Spirit [Rom. ix, 1], is a power inherent in the essence of man
per se, see Rom. ii, 14, 15; in this passage the logismoi are not the
conscience, but the reflections that spring from the conscience, which
itself is the "work of the law written in the hearts," that is, the
consciousness of the contents, of the requirements of the moral law;
Paul is not speaking here of the true and perfect conscience, but of
the natural conscience of sinful man; the essential features of the
true conscience, however, still lurk in the disordered one; and this
essential character appears here evidently as a consciousness of the
moral. In the Old Testament the conscience is designated by the word
heart, lvv [Job xxvii, 6].
The conscience is not a mere simple knowing, it is an utterance of the
practical reason, a direct judging of moral thoughts and actions, an
approving or condemning witness as to the moral conduct of man [2 Cor.
i, 12; v, 11; Rom. xiv, 22; Acts xxiii, 1; xxiv, 16; 2 Tim. i, 3; 1
Peter iii, 16; Heb. xiii, 18]. Such a judging presupposes the
consciousness of a moral law, according to which the decisions are
made; and this consciousness is the inner essence of conscience itself.
The conscience is a judging power, for the reason that it is per se a
consciousness of the law as the divine will; it utters itself
discriminating and deciding (krinon) because it is mindful of the
eternal ground of the holy,--because it is the inner essence of the
divine image as coming to self-consciousness; this latter is the
essence of the conscience, the judging is its active
manifestation.--The conscience can be awakened, cultivated, and refined
by human instruction, but not generated; it is a perpetual witnessing
of God as to himself and his holy will in the rational spirit of man,
and for this simple reason it is not within the control of man, but is
a power above him; it may be silenced temporarily, and led astray in
its particular utterance as a discriminating power, but it can never be
eradicated nor definitively perverted. It is not the person, strictly
speaking, who has the conscience, but it is the conscience that has the
person; it dwells indeed in the individual personality, but it is not
itself of subjective character, since it is of divine quality; it does
not express my personal peculiarity, but the holy will of God in regard
to me. Conscience is the fact of the divine morality in man antecedent
to all human morality; it is the germ proper of man's
God-likeness,--the God-likeness itself as bearing relation to free
conduct, in so far as this consciousness constitutes a part of the
essence of rationality. Without this divine germ of the moral in man,
morality would be impossible--as impossible as is seeing without
eyesight, no matter how much light there might be, or instruction
without previously existing rationality as a basis. A convicting by
argumentation is possible only when there is antecedently existing in
the subject some certain knowledge wherewith the new truth shall agree.
What axioms are in mathematics, that is the conscience in the moral
sphere. He who does not recognize the axioms, and hence has, as it
were, no mathematical conscience, is beyond the reach of instruction.
He alone can become rational and moral, and live so, who is so already
in the original structure of his being; and this deepest ground of
moral rationality is in fact the conscience. He in whom the witness of
the holy God does not witness for the holy, cannot be moral; but such
an abandoned one there cannot be in the entire creation of God, for to
none has he "left himself without witness." A man may become ungodly,
may be unconscientious, and yet not be free from the power of
conscience; he may deprive himself of his eyes, but not of his reason,
and consequently not of his conscience. For this simple reason, every
sin is a fall of man from his own proper nature, an unfaithfulness
toward himself. Conscience rests on the. discrimination of the personal
creature and its will from the personal God and his will; it finds its
universal expression in the words of the Lord: "Not my will but thine
be done." Whoever supposes himself to act from necessity, or merely
according to his own individual will, for him the idea of the
conscience is obscured; the irreligious are necessarily
unconscientious. It is for the simple reason that it is not the
individual ego, but the divine, that speaks in the conscience, that
there can be a reproving, an evil, conscience, in which the difference
of this twofold ego appears in an irreducible antithesis. But this
voice of the divine ego does not first come to the consciousness of the
individual ego, from without; rather does every external revelation
presuppose already this inner one; there must echo out from within man
something kindred to the outer revelation, in order to its being
recognized and accepted as divine. Even as Adam at the first sight of,
the woman recognized at once that she was flesh of his flesh, so
recognizes man immediately on the utterance of the divine will by
special revelation that this is spirit of that spirit which dwells and
speaks within him,--not, however, as his individual ego, but as
distinct from it, and as having uncontested right to rule over it.
The first manifestation of conscience in the Scriptures appears in the
words wherein Eve opposes the temptation: "We may eat of the fruit of
the trees of the garden; but of the fruit of the tree which is in the
midst of the garden, God hath said: ye shall not eat of it." Here Eve
distinguishes the command, as the divine will, from her own will; which
latter, however, she afterward carries out; but this adversely judging
conscience presupposes a previous first activity of the same, namely,
the recognition of the divine command as obligating. The command itself
spoke in fact, primarily, only to the understanding; the recognition of
it as divine, as a legitimate determining authority for the individual
will, the receiving of it into the heart, and the willingness to
conform the individual volitions to it,--all this is not a matter of
the cognizing understanding, nor in general of the individual spirit as
such, but of that divine element in man which responds to the divine
command--the conscience; and in the very first utterance of this power,
it shows itself primarily, indeed as a consciousness, but then
straightway also as a feeling of love as toward the congenial, the
right, and as a willingness arising from this consciousness and this
love.
The cognizing activity of the conscience relates primarily and directly
only to the God-pleasing, and not also to the God-repugnant; for the
former is real, but not the latter, and all true and real cognition
relates to something real. Hence the second phase of conscience, that
where men's "eyes are opened" and they "know the good and the evil,"
does not belong to the primative and pure conscience, but is a
manifestation of the conscience as already in antagonism to the moral
actuality of man. As primarily relating to the Godlike, and hence as
attended by a feeling of approbation, the conscience has originally
nothing to do with fear of punishment, but is on the contrary an
expression of peace with God; fear presupposes already a disturbed
harmony and a knowledge of good and evil; hence in the Scriptures we
find conscience expressly distinguished from fear. [Rom. xiii, 5.]
According to Rothe, conscience is the divine activity in its passive
form, that is, it is the soul's self-activity as being determined by
the body, or, in general, by material nature, and, in the final
instance, by the divine self-activity, or, in general, by God
himself,--that is, it is instinctive impulse as religious. In his
opinion conscience lies not on the side of the self-consciousness, but
on that of the self-activity, and relates not to conceptions and to the
understanding, but to volitions and to actions. Conscience has
essentially an individual character,--is of subjective, not of
objective, nature; hence it is not correct to speak of a tribunal of
conscience. "The conscience of another has not the least binding force
for me, but only my own; when an appeal is made to conscience, there
all further discussion is cut off, there all objective arguments become
powerless; whatever is a matter of conscience to me is to me a sanctum
sanctorum which none dare violate"--not even for objective reasons; nor
does my conscience bind any one else. Conscience is essentially a
religious instinct-impulse; and as being an activity of God in man
under the form of an instinctive impulse, and hence also a sensuously
perceptible one, it is attended by sensuously-somatic phases of
feeling. Now every instinct-impulse is either positive or negative,
hence conscience is either approbative or disapprobative; as
disapprobative it is religious aversion,--an instinctive impulse toward
the counterworking of the sin (hence stings of conscience); as
approbative it is the religious appetite. Rothe takes occasion here to
complain seriously of the hitherto prevalent confusion of phraseology
on this subject,--namely, in view of the fact that conscience is
treated of, sometimes as a propension, sometimes as a moral feeling,
sometimes as a religious feeling, sometimes as such and such an
instinct-impulse, or as such and such a sense; in this, however, he is
manifestly unjustifiable; it is to no good purpose to quarrel with
language which is, in fact, often profounder and truer than the boldest
theoretical systems: No one has a right arbitrarily to define ideas
contrarily to the general consciousness, and then to find fault with
language because it does not harmonize with the definitions. In the
present case we find language perfectly justifiable in making so wide a
use of the term conscience, inasmuch as all the above phases are in
fact embraced in it, though indeed not in equal degrees. The strange
notion that conscience rests on a determination of the personal soul by
the material body, so that by implication a rational spirit without a
material body would not have any conscience, we pass over in silence,
and make only the following observations. Should we admit that
conscience relates to volition and action, it does not follow from this
that it is not per se, and primarily, a consciousness; thought in fact
may influence volition; and the necessary presupposition of every
volition is a thought; but an unconscious instinct-impulse is neither
religious nor moral, but irrational. The fact is, conscience lies most
strictly on the side of the self-consciousness; otherwise an evil
conscience could not contain a self-accusation. That the conscience is
of subjective nature is only in so far correct as it constitutes an
integral element of rational personality; but it is entirely incorrect
in Rothe to reduce it to a mere individually-subjective phenomenon, and
entirely to deprive it of objective character. If conscience is to be
at all of a rational character, it must have a general, and hence also
an objective significancy. That which is merely subjective has not the
least moral significancy, rather is it the opposite of the moral; what
is holy for me must be also holy per se and before God, and what is
holy before God must be holy for all moral creatures. My conscience is
true only in so far as it is an expression of the moral idea; but the
moral idea is not of a merely subjective nature. For every Christian,
it is a matter of conscience to follow Christ; this holds good in
general as well as in particular, and not simply for me as such and
such a particular person. The more the conscience bears a merely
subjective character, the more defective it is; in a normal condition
of humanity all moral consciences would necessarily be essentially
concordant, inasmuch as there is only one God and only one divine will,
and inasmuch as conscience is the expression of this will. Rothe comes
himself into violent contradiction with his assertions, in that he
makes conscience to be determined by a divine activity; for this divine
activity must be objective to the subject; and, as of a holy character,
it certainly does not determine each individual to a different
decision: and a little farther on Rothe himself takes this position:
that the conscience as an activity of God in man, has a direct and
unconditional authority, and from which man cannot in any manner
escape; that arguments avail nothing as against conscience,--that
perfectly convincing arguments may be urged and yet the conscience
remain unmoved; that consequently conscience is also infallible, that
it never deceives and is incapable of being bribed; and that though we
may blind ourselves as to its decision, yet it is itself not to be
deceived. These positions, so utterly extreme and so contrary to all
experience, are manifestly irreconcilable with his previous position,
namely, that conscience, being entirely devoid of objective character,
is a mere subjective phenomenon; for in the notion of an authority in
conscience, and especially of an unconditional one, it is manifestly
implied that the subject is subordinate thereto. [9] --According to
Schenkel (Dogmatik, 1858, I, 135 sqq.) the conscience is a special
faculty of the human soul, or rather that one of its organs which has
to do with religious functions, whereas the reason and the will do not
relate directly to God but to the world; this conscience, in which the
God-consciousness is primarily and immediately given, is at the same
time also the ethical central-organ. What is to be gained by this freak
of fancy it is difficult to determine. When men thus arbitrarily, and
contrary to prevalent usage, limit the notion of the reason and the
will, it is of course an easy matter to discover new faculties of the
soul and new organs of the same; but whether anything important is
gained thereby, and whether the supposed epoch-making new discovery
will meet with much favor, we may seriously doubt.--Trendelenburg shows
much more circumspection and acumen in considering conscience as the
reaction and pro-action of the total God-centered man against the man
as partial, especially against the self-seeking part of himself
(Naturrecht, 1860, S: 39).
II.--THE ESSENCE OF THE MORAL LAW AS THE DIVINE WILL.
SECTION LXXIX.
The essence of the moral law as the divine will cannot be deduced from
the nature of man alone, but essentially only from the idea of God as
ruling righteously in his creation.--(a) As morality rests on freedom,
and as freedom consists in the fact that a man chooses, by a personal
independent volition, a particular mode of action among several
possible ones, hence every moral action is at the same time the leaving
undone of a possible contrary action. The moral law is therefore per se
always twofold; it is command and prohibition at the same time, and
consequently there is in fact no essential difference whether the law
appears in the one or in the other form; and as the moral life of man
is a continuous one, hence he must at every moment of time be
fulfilling a divine law; a mere non-doing would be a negation of the
moral. It is in consequence of the freedom of choice, and not in
consequence of sinfulness, that the divine law bears the form of a
"should."
Every presentation of the moral law from the stand-point of man alone,
that is, purely from the nature of man, without deriving it from God,
is anti-religious, and can never include the whole truth of the moral
idea. And in precise proportion as we conceive more highly of the moral
nature of man from that stand-point, we render unavoidable his
Pantheistic exaltation into the highest realization of God himself--the
putting of man in the place of the personal God. We cannot possibly
understand the moral law save as the divine purpose in regard to free
creatures, and we can base it on the nature of man only in so far as we
recognize in and through this nature the divine creative will, the
fulfillment of which lies in the realized moral perfection of man.
The fact that any particular action is morally good, necessarily
implies as possible a contrary, or non-good one; and the commanding of
the former is per se a prohibiting of the latter; every command
directly implies the prohibition of the contrary form of action. Now it
might seem as if the converse did not hold good, namely, that a
prohibition does not imply at the same time also a command; the laws:
thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not commit adultery, seems to require
simply a non-doing. This, however, would be possible only on condition
that a mere non-doing were in general a moral possibility. But as life
is strictly continuous in all of its stages, and as even a momentary
real cessation of life is death, hence least of all can the highest
form of life, the moral life, be a non-living, a simple non-doing,
without thereby turning into the contrary, namely, into spiritual and
moral death. As the human spirit, even in the deepest sleep as
conditioned by the weariness of the body, is never idle, but keeps up
an activity in remembered or unremembered dreaming, so also the highest
form of spirit life, the moral life, is never interrupted by a pure
inactivity. Hence a prohibition that should include in itself no
contents of a positive character, no command, could not be of a moral
nature. The moral non-doing of a morally prohibited action is in and of
itself necessarily the doing of the contrary. Hence, Luther, in his
elucidation of the Commandments, is strictly right in never leaving
them in the form of a simple "thou shalt not;" but in uniformly
deducing from them a very positive "thou shalt." The law: "thou shalt
not kill," though in form a simple prohibition, nevertheless directly
implies the enjoining of all that man, in his intercourse with others,
ought to do as contrasting with the disposition that leads to murder;
we should not only not kill our neighbor, but we should help and succor
him in all his bodily perils;--a mere non-doing in the face of such
perils would be a direct violation of the law. If man is not to commit
adultery, then must he, in the conjugal relation, not only not do any
thing that stimulates and nurtures an adulterous disposition, but he
must do the contrary thereof; that is, he must live purely and chastely
in words and acts, and love and honor his own consort.
Nevertheless it is not indifferent as to which of the two forms the
moral law assumes; the difference, however, lies not in the essence,
but in the practical educative adaptation. As the essence, the end, of
the moral life is not negative but has positive contents, the true and
perfect form of the law is in fact that of the express command; "thou
shalt" is higher than "thou shalt not." But for man while as yet
undeveloped to moral maturity, the form of prohibition is the more
obvious and simple, since, on the one hand, it brings his moral liberty
of choice more clearly to his consciousness, and, with the exclusion of
the immoral, opens to him the whole field of the discretionary, and
since, on the other, it establishes protecting limits for the field
within which he is to train himself up to moral maturity, to a
consciousness of the good. With the child, education always begins in
the prohibiting of what conflicts with its well-being; God's first law
to man was a free throwing-open of the field of the discretionary in
connection with a limiting prohibition [Gen. ii, 16, 17], whereas the
real command appears primarily only in the general form of a blessing,
as expressive of the goal of moral effort, the good [Gen. i, 28]. While
the Mosaic Commandments bear predominately the character of
prohibition, Christ sums up the moral contents of the divine law in the
form of a positive command: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all
thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself;" and at the same time Christ
declares that this command embraces the whole ancient law. Hence, while
the essence of the divine law continues ever the same, the revelation
of it gradually advances from the predominantly prohibitory form to
that of the positive command.
As both forms of the divine law present a duty to the free will of man,
they both bear the expression of a command, a "should." This is the
form assumed by nearly all laws, from the first one given to Adam to
the perfect laws of Christ. Since the time of Schleiermacher, however,
many take offense at this "should," and strive to banish it, at least,
from the pure moral law. In Schleiermacher's Philosophical Ethics, this
rejection of the "should" is entirely consequential; for here the moral
is quite as necessarily-determined a phenomenon of the universe as is
the natural, and for freedom of will there is no place whatever;
consequently ethics has no other task than simply to describe that
which takes place from necessity, but not to present laws under the
form of requirements, of duty. Rothe follows this view only up to a
certain point; he rejects the form of the "should" only for sinless
man, as indeed also one cannot apply the idea of "should" to God; only
for sinful man can the moral appear as a duty (Eth. I, Auf., S: 817).
As relating to God this is doubtless correct, inasmuch as God's freedom
is not human liberty of choice, and as it absolutely excludes the
possibility of sinning, and since God is absolutely his own law. But as
relating to free creatures, even though they be as yet perfectly
sinless, it is erroneous,--at least unless we are to regard the moral
perfection of the same as a cessation of all freedom of choice and
likewise of all moral duty. As long as man does not cease to propose to
himself moral ends, and freely to aim to reach them, so long will duty
as yet continue. This form of the law would be unsuitable for perfect
man only when it should be conceived of as something uncongenial to
man, as some sort of oppressive yoke, which, however, is by no means
the case. The as yet unrealized state of a freely-to-be-attained goal
always implies a "should." It is only from some such misconception as
if the "should" implied something foreign and burdensome to man, that
we can explain why even Harless limits the application of this word to
the fallen state (Christl. Ethik, 6 Auf., p. 80 sqq.). There is,
however, no shadow of censure in the form "thou shouldst;" in fact,
there is for the free will no other form of law conceivable than that
of the "should." Without a distinguishing of the divine will from that
of the subject, no real conscious morality is possible; and simply this
distinguishing and nothing more--not an antagonism of estrangement--is
contained in the idea of the "should." It is in this idea in fact that
morality and piety find their unity, the moral being conceived as the
divine will [Deut. x, 12; Micah vi, 8]. The child that does the good
for the reason that it knows that it is the will of its parents that it
should do so, stands morally higher than the one that does it without a
consciousness of its duty; the former, but not the latter, is able to
offer resistance to temptation; for temptation is overcome only by the
thought of the divine will, or of duty. A command does not presuppose a
contrary inclination, but only the possibility of sin, that is, it
presupposes freedom of will. In denying to man while as yet in a
sinless state all consciousness of the divine law, and supposing him to
act simply from a direct impulse of love, we not only contradict the
express declaration of the Scriptures as to a revelation of the divine
will to primitive man, but we also render the fall into sin an
impossibility.
SECTION LXXX.
(b) Whatever is morally good is God's will, and is hence also moral
law; and this law has, as God's will, an unconditional claim,--presents
itself always as a requirement from which there is no escape, and
cannot possibly be construed into a mere counsel the non-fulfillment of
which would not be a sin, and the voluntary fulfillment of which would
constitute a supererogatory merit. The moral goal of every human being
is moral perfection, and all that conducts thereto is for every such
being an absolute duty, that is, it is God's will and law concerning
him. No one can do more good than is required of him; for the human
will cannot be better than the divine, and God's law is not less good
than God's will. That which in the Scriptures has the appearance of
real moral counsel is simply a conditional law, the fulfillment of
which becomes a duty to the individual only under certain, not
universally-existing, circumstances; but wherever it does become a
duty, there it is so absolutely, and hence its non-fulfillment is a
violation of duty; and wherever it does not become a duty there its
fulfillment has no merit.
Here, for the first time, we meet an antagonism of moral views between
the different Christian churches; and it is a far-reaching one; and
from this point on, in our attempt to construct a system of Christian
ethics, and not simply of the ethical views of this or that church, we
must seek for the essence of Christianity, not merely in those
generalities which are common to all particular churches, but, wherever
two views are in irreconcilable antagonism, we must necessarily decide
for that one which is of a really Christian character, and cannot
regard both as equally legitimate. And although. the question in this
connection is nearly always, as to counsels to redeemed Christians,
still it properly belongs in this place, since in fact unfallen man
would be, even much more than the redeemed, in a condition to obtain a
higher merit than is strictly required.
On a superficial examination it might seem that by the dogma as to the
evangelical counsels (consilia as distinguished from praecepta) the
moral requirements were advanced higher than the generally-sufficient
degrees of morality; the fact is, however, the very opposite. The
notion that there is some good which is not also a duty, can only be
obtained by lowering the moral requirement from that of the highest
possible moral perfection to an inferior requirement; and a
supererogatory merit becomes possible only where the idea of the good
embraces more than the moral requirement. The Protestant church,
however, holds fast the view that all real good is absolutely a duty,
and hence that man is obligated to do all the good within his
power,--that he should unconditionally strive for the highest possible
perfection. The Protestant view as to the moral requirement stands
therefore higher than the opposing view. The Protestant church rejects
the notion of moral counsels, and of the meritoriousness of their
fulfillment, for the reason that it regards their contents as not
absolutely good, as not per se moral, but as only good under certain
not universally-existing circumstances, but as absolutely commanded
when those circumstances do exist. That which is good in a particular
conjuncture is, when that case arises, an absolute duty, and not a mere
discretionary and non-obligating counsel. The saying of Christ [Luke
xvii, 10]: "When ye shall have done all those things which are
commanded you, say: we are unprofitable servants,"--which is not
designed to disparage the worth of true morality, but simply to lead
man to humility by reminding him of his sinful state, and of his
redemption by grace alone,--is, however, applied by the theologians of
the Romish church to the doctrine of the evangelical counsels, in that
they say that man should in fact not remain a mere unprofitable
servant, but should be a child of God, as indeed also Christ was not an
unprofitable servant; and even some Protestant exegetes try to escape
this inference simply by referring the works here in question not to
Christian morality, but merely to the Mosaic law. We regard both the
inference, and this mode of escaping it as inadmissible. It is indeed
true, man should not be simply an unprofitable servant but a child of
God; but from this very fact it follows that that which morally
conditions this filial relation to God, must also be a positive moral
requirement and duty, and not a mere counsel, which we may leave
unfulfilled and yet not fail in doing all that is actually required of
us; man is in fact absolutely bound to become a child of God. Now as a
limitation of these words of Christ to the Mosaic law is not justified
by the context, seeing that just previously (verses 5, 6) the question
had been as to the power of faith, hence their true scope is, we think,
as follows: man, even though redeemed but not yet free from sin, is
unable by his dutiful works to acquire merit before God in such a sense
as that he could claim of God the blessedness of the children of God as
a reward due, and which God would be required by his justice to grant,
but on the contrary he can regard this blessedness only as a gracious
gift conferred upon him in virtue of his faith in the compassionate
love of God in Christ. To the works owed, it is not other non-owed and
hence supererogatory works that are compared, but faith, which, though
indeed also a moral requirement, yet differs essentially from works
properly so called (comp. verse 19; "thy faith hath made the whole").
Christ's utterance, therefore, teaches clearly the very opposite of
sanctification by works as prevailing in the Romish church.
The Romish church finds further support for its supererogatory good
works,--which consist essentially in intensified self-denial, that is,
in voluntary celibacy, poverty, obedience to man-devised rules,
solitary life, etc.,--in those texts of the New Testament which seem to
present celibacy and voluntary poverty as a higher morality not to be
expected of all Christians. To the rich young man, who, as he himself
affirmed, had kept all the commandments, Christ says [Matt. xix, 21]:
"If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast,--and give to the
poor, and then thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come and follow
me." Now, it is argued, the moral law does not in fact require of all
men the giving up of their possessions, and yet this young man had
fulfilled all the commands which Christ mentions to him; hence this
giving-up was over and above these commands. This is a very unfortunate
inference, for surely a morality which does not lead to the perfection
of man, can hardly be pure and required by God; and in the case of this
young man the giving-up of his riches was the condition of his
perfection, and hence, as we hold, an unconditional requirement, in
case he really desired to attain to the highest good. The young man in
declining the requirement failed, as Christ says, to have part in the
kingdom of heaven; all his presumed fulfillment of the law was
insufficient. Now this is in plain antagonism to the Romish doctrine,
according to which the fulfillment of the law, even without obedience
to the counsels, is amply sufficient to a participation in the kingdom
of heaven, whereas the supererogatory works simply serve to a more
speedy attainment thereof, or to a higher degree of blessedness. Hence
those who refuse to admit that certain particular actions become a duty
only under particular and not universally-existing relations, but that
when these do exist, then they become in fact a positive requirement,
would have no other alternative left, than to regard the requirement
made of the rich young man as a general duty for all Christians. We can
distinguish universally-valid commands from conditional ones, not,
however, moral commands from mere counsels. Also the conditional
commands are, when the particular conjuncture arrives, of absolute
obligation, and not to fulfill them is disobedience to God's command;
whereas, in the Romish view, the non-fulfillment of the counsels does
not incur the least moral blame.--When Paul says of himself [1 Cor. ix,
12-18] that he has denied himself many things to which he had a right,
that he has labored without charge, etc., the Romanists here find a
supererogatory work to which the Apostle was not obligated. Paul,
however, declares expressly that he so acted in order "not to abuse his
power [liberty] in the Gospel." Now if the taking advantage of his
discretionary power, under these particular circumstances, would have
been a misuse of his liberty, then the course of action adopted by the
apostle was evidently simply his duty, and by no means a supererogatory
work.--But the greatest emphasis is placed on the utterances of Christ
and of St. Paul as to abstaining from marriage: "All cannot receive
this saying, but they to whom it is given" [Matt. xix, 11]. Now, that
those who do not receive the saying can be believing Christians who
attain to the kingdom of God, although not to that higher stage of
salvation which is conditioned on supererogatory works as Romanists
understand it, is not only not said, but, to the contrary, it is said
that the self-chastening in question is done "for the kingdom of
heaven's sake," and hence plainly in the sense that the same is a
condition of attaining to the kingdom of heaven. But the opera
supererogationis of which one is found here, are not regarded as a
condition to participation in the kingdom of heaven. When Paul [1 Cor.
vii] commends to Christians to abstain from marriage, this is certainly
not offered as a universally-applying command, but manifestly as a mere
counsel (comp. verse 12), not, however, in such a sense as that
individuals may disregard it at perfect pleasure and without moral
detriment. On the contrary, the apostle expressly gives the ground of
his advice: "I suppose that this is good (kalon) for the present
distress;" "such (as marry) shall have trouble in the flesh; but I
spare you." From this it follows that where such a "present distress"
does not exist, or where there is full moral power and readiness to
endure the worldly trials, there the advisableness of celibacy no
longer applies. In general the principle is valid: "If thou marry thou
hast not sinned" (verse 28); but in every definite case the duty
becomes definite also. Where there is such a pressure of "distress,"
and where higher duties are to be fulfilled, and there is not
sufficient power to bear the worldly trials without danger to
faithfulness, there to marry is not only not a mere non-sinning, and
abstaining from marriage a good counsel, but the former is a positive
sin, and the latter a duty. And wherever any one, in view of these
particular circumstances does remain unmarried, he does not thereby
acquire a higher, a supererogatory desert, but he simply fulfills his
duty. Such a supererogatory desert is moreover directly excluded by the
fact that the apostle proposed by freedom from marriage to preserve the
Christians, in that time of distress, from temporal "trouble;" now he
who renounces an otherwise legitimate privilege in order to be spared
from worldly trouble, cannot possible lay claim to a special higher
desert and to a special recompense for the same. In fact, we can
readily conceive of cases to the contrary, where the greater desert
would consist precisely in the assumption of these trials by marrying,
and where therefore to marry would be a duty.
According to the Romish doctrine there is a difference between God's
holy will and his moral law; the former has not an unconditional
validity, but is, in relation to man in the sphere of higher moral
perfection, simply a wish the fulfillment of which would indeed be
pleasing to God, but with the non-fulfillment of which He will
nevertheless be satisfied. Bellarmin says, apropos to Matt. xxii, 36:
"He who loves God with his whole heart, is not bound to do all that God
counsels, but only what He commands,"--an assertion that must appear to
an evangelical conscience as a reversal of the moral consciousness.
Hirscher, in his earlier writings, defended this doctrine thus: "Love
is a command given to all without exception, whereas a specific degree
of love is not commanded; rather is love, when once really existing,
left to its own nature; it in fact presses forward of its own
prompting, and it is inconsistent with its inner nature that the rude
hand of a command should impose upon it that which it will always
freely bring forth from its own heart; hence love is in general an
absolute duty, not, however, a specific higher degree of love; the
absence of the higher degree does not involve also an absence of
righteousness in general, but only a certain higher range of the moral
affections; so was it with the rich young man in the Gospel." Now, all
this is manifest sophistry. It is true the degree of love cannot, for
every particular case, be stated in a particular legal formula, still,
however, this degree is an absolute duty; it simply depends on the
spiritual and moral culture of the individual, but is in no case left
to individual caprice. Whoever loves God or Christ, or father, mother,
or consort less than his moral culture enables him to do, simply
commits sin; and he who loves with all the capacity of his soul does
not do any thing supererogatory, but simply his bounden duty; and it is
nearer the truth to say that all will have to accuse themselves of
loving too little, than that any single soul may boast of loving God
more than with the "whole heart and soul and strength." (In the fifth
edition of his Moral, II, p. 328 sqq., Hirscher so tones down the above
teaching that only a mere shadow of it remains.) The Romish doctrine,
in making perfection dependent on the fulfillment of the counsels,
implies thereby that God's will, as expressed in the moral law, is not
that man should be perfect, but it is on the contrary rather an
individual courage transcending the mere will of God, that leads him
out beyond the moral goal set for him by God himself. [10]
SECTION LXXXI.
(c) While, on the one hand, there is no form of action which could be
to the subject, in any given moment, morally indifferent, that is,
neither in harmony nor in disharmony with the divine will, neither good
nor evil, still, on the other hand, no definitely-framed form of law
embraces within itself the total contents of the moral life-sphere; for
as every law has only contents of a general character, while the moral
activity itself is always of an individual character, so that the moral
actions of different men that fall under the same moral law offer a
great diversity, hence the moral law does not sustain to the actions
that answer to it precisely the same relation as an idea to its direct
realization and manifestation; the particular moral action is not the
simple, pure expression and copy of the moral law itself, but it always
contains something which does not arise from the law, but from the
individual peculiarity. The law as appropriated by the person is
fulfilled only in such a manner as expresses also the peculiarity of
the person. Every moral action contains therefore two elements: a
general ideal one, the moral law, and a particular and inure real one,
the personal element,--which latter, as the expression of the
personally peculiar character, has also its perfect legitimacy. God's
moral will is not that men should be mere impersonal, absolutely
similar expressions of the moral law, but that the latter should come
to its realization only as appropriated by the particular personality.
This personally peculiar element that inheres in every actual moral
action cannot be embraced in any general legal formula, inasmuch as in
its nature it is in fact not general, but a pure expression of
individual personality. Every real moral activity is therefore the
product of a twofold freedom: of that which subordinates the individual
personality to the law, and of that which does not merge the
personality into a mere abstract idea, but preserves it in its
legitimate peculiarity, and which is to a certain extent a law unto
itself.
By this notion of the right of personality Christian Ethics differs
from all non-Christian systems, not excepting those of the Greeks,
notwithstanding that the latter lay such great stress on the freedom of
the person; and this feature is of wide-reaching significance. The
decided rejection of the notion that there may be morally-indifferent
actions and conditions, and the emphasizing the rights of personal
individuality, are very essential to a true understanding of the moral.
By insisting disproportionately on the former, we leave too little room
for the peculiarity of the moral personality, and make it necessary
that for every particular action there should be also a special law;
this leads inevitably to a legal bondage hostile alike to all vital
individuality, and to the essence of personal freedom. This is the
stand-point of Chinese and of Talmudic ethics, and to a certain extent,
of the casuistics of some Romish moralists. On the other hand, if we
insist too exclusively on the peculiarity of the person, we incur the
danger of trespassing on the unconditional validity of the law, to the
profit of the fortuitous caprice of the subject,--somewhat as recently
in the period of the so-called "geniuses" and of the genius-less
freethinkers who followed them, all morality was made to consist in the
uncurbed development of the fortuitous peculiarity of the individual,
to which peculiarity every thing was freely allowed provided only that
it was "genial." The only true course is, in harmony with the general
Christian consciousness, to hold fast to both of these elements.
At each and every particular point of time, the moral activity and the
moral state are either good or evil, either in harmony with the moral
idea or not so. Although in the same action there may be different
phases which have morally different characters, and which place good
and evil in close proximity, still these contrary elements never
coalesce into a moral neutrum, into a morally-indefinite fluctuating
between good and evil--a moral indifference. An individual may indeed
be morally undecided, neither cold nor warm; this indecision, however,
is not of a morally-indifferent character, but is itself evil. There
may be different degrees of good or evil, but not an action that is
neither good nor evil. This will become self-evident if we fix our mind
on the fundamental idea of good and evil as that which answers to, or
does not answer to, the divine will; between these two a third is
absolutely inconceivable, just as in mathematics there is no medium
between a correct and a false result, or in a clearly presented legal
case no medium between yes and no. The bride who cannot answer "yes" to
the question as to her willingness to the marriage, says thereby, in
fact, "no;" and whoever does not at any given moment say "yes" to God's
never neutral will, simply rejects it. The essentially
self-contradictory assumption of a morally-indifferent middle-sphere
between good and evil, is in itself anti-moral; and every immoral
person is only too ready to transfer all his immorality, in so far as
he cannot explain it into good, into this pretended sphere of the
morally indifferent.
And yet this so widely prevalent tendency to assume that there is a
morally-indifferent sphere of action, is based on an actual, though
falsely interpreted, presentiment of the true relations in the case.
The fact is, every feature in correct moral action is not directly and
specifically determined by the moral law, but a very essential phase of
such action, has another source than the general law; nor is the truly
moral man simply a mere expression of the moral law, but, as differing
from other equally moral men, he is entitled as a person to have and
retain his special peculiarity. This phase of the moral life appears at
once, and very clearly, in that which lies at the basis of all moral
society--wedlock-love. Love, and, more specifically, conjugal love, is
a moral command; but the fact that this love fixes itself exclusively
and continuously upon precisely this particular person, is a
personally-peculiar shaping of the moral law; no law can prescribe what
particular person shall be the object of my conjugal love; and the
personal element is here so manifestly legitimate that the eliminating
of it--the indulging in love, not to a particular personally-chosen
person, but to the other sex in general--results in "free" love, the
very quintessence of immorality and vulgarity. Wherever moral theories
ignore the rights of personality, there the tendency is very strong to
base marriage, not on personal choice, but on the choice of the State,
as in ancient Peru. Now, what is true of conjugal love is true also,
though not always in such striking consequences, of all moral activity.
When two equally moral persons do the same thing, fulfill the same law,
it is, after all, not the same action; nor indeed should it be; what is
right and good in one person may, in that particular form, be even
wrong in another, notwithstanding that the moral law is the same for
all. Paul employs his moral activity in a different manner from that of
Peter and James; in fact, in the living communion of Christians there
is presented not only a great diversity of spiritual "gifts," but also
of personally-moral idiosyncrasies; even in the purely spiritual sphere
there are manifold gifts, but only one Lord. The normal difference of
moral life-tendency as seen in the sons of Adam, and which must have
occasioned as great a difference in the fulfilling of the moral
commands as it did in the manner of offering worship, presents a type
of the manifold moral diversities into which the moral law is shaped by
peculiarities of personality.
The virtualization of the personal element is not to be understood as a
something conflicting with the divine law; on the contrary, it is in
fact the divine will that the peculiarity of the personality be
preserved. If, at first thought. it should seem questionable to place
along-side of the universally-valid law another essentially variable
element, lest thereby the unconditional validity of the law be
infringed upon and negatived, let it be observed, in the first place,
that the personal peculiarity finds in the moral law both its limits
and its moral criterion, so that consequently it can never come into
antagonism with the same, but that, nevertheless, there is, within the
scope of the personal spiritual life, a field into which the law,
because of its general character, does not dictatingly enter. So long
as the moral consciousness is not yet truly mature, there is, indeed,
in the personal element of the moral, a peril for the moral life,
inasmuch as the law cannot give specific directions for every special
case. Hence in the Old Testament God complemented his earlier
legislation by special revelations of his will through priestly and
prophetic inspiration; now, however, since the Spirit of God is poured
out upon all men, there is no longer any need of this extraordinary
revelation of the divine will in individual cases, for now the human
personality, having come into possession of the truth, has also become
"free indeed,"--is so imbued with the divine law that, in loving and
acting as prompted by its divinely purified heart, it fulfills the
divine law in the very fact of developing its personality; and, in
fulfilling the law, it preserves also at the same time its personal
peculiarity,--as, for example, in a happy marriage there is no longer
any antagonism between the fulfilling of the will of the one party by
the other, and the acting-out by each of his own personal peculiarity,
but, on the contrary, in each of the two elements the other is already
implied. And the moral unripeness of individual persons, that
necessarily still exists even in a normal condition of humanity, is
complemented to full moral safety by the spirit of the moral
community,--as in fact this thought is vitally embodied in every true
Christian church-communion.
SECTION LXXXII.
The sphere of the personally-peculiar element is that of the
discretionary or the allowed. That particular action which is neither
commanded nor forbidden in general by any moral law is an allowed
action; this circumstance does not, however, by any means make it of a
morally-indifferent character; on the contrary, the morally-allowed
belongs per se to the morally-good in so far as the development of
personal individuality is per se legitimate and good. The idea of the
allowed relates therefore less to the moral activity per se and in
general, than rather to the peculiar manner in which an end that is per
se good, that is, correspondent to the moral law, is realized in
particular, by virtue of the personal peculiarity of the actor; and the
same moral law may be fulfilled in many ways, the moral quality of
which, however, is conditioned in each particular case by the said
peculiarity. There is nothing that is allowed under all circumstances;
and all that is allowed, and all so-called indifferents (adiaphora) are
in each particular case either good or evil, but never morally neutral,
notwithstanding that such actions may be per se, that is, generally
considered, morally undetermined, and neither commanded nor forbidden.
The moral quality lies not so much in the action objectively
considered, as in the disposition from which it springs and by which it
is attended.--The sphere of the allowed is different for every stage of
the moral development and for each particular circle of life. The
farther the moral development of the person has progressed, that is,
the more the moral law has become identified with his personality, so
much. the higher will also be the rights of his personal individuality,
so much the higher the morally-personal freedom, and consequently so
much the wider also the sphere of the allowed; to the pure all things
are pure. Free movement within the sphere of the allowed is therefore
essential to a truly moral life, and conditions the all-sided
development thereof; this movement is per se good, and it is in itself
a good, the significance and compass of which increase with the moral
development of the subject. Herein lies the contrast of the Christian
freedom of the Gospel to the bondage of the law.
This is one of the most important and, at the same time, most difficult
points in ethical science, and both for the same reason, namely, from
the necessity of giving play to personal freedom, and of doing this
without infringing on the unconditionally-valid moral law; and in exact
proportion as a system of ethics embraces the idea of personal freedom,
will it also be able to embrace the idea of the allowed. As in express
laws--commands and prohibitions--God manifests himself as holy, so in
the concession of the allowed he shows himself as loving. As in the
fulfilling of the command and in the observing of the prohibition, man
becomes conscious of his moral freedom, so, within the sphere of the
allowed, this freedom becomes to him an enjoyment. Now, as freedom of
will is not a mere antecedent condition of all morality, but also
itself a moral good, and as every good is per se an enjoyment, hence
free-created beings have also a moral claim upon the legitimate
enjoyment of freedom,--not simply of freedom as subject to definite
commands, but also of freedom as entitled to free choice in various
directions,--that is, they have discretionary power to free activity;
this constitutes in fact the divinely conceded sphere of the allowed,
wherein mainly the personally-peculiar element of the moral comes to
virtualization.
The very first moral direction, or rather blessing, that was given to
man, contains implicitly the notion of the allowed or discretionary:
"Replenish the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of
the sea," etc. This is really not so much a command as a blessing,--it
proposes a moral goal, a good. But in this good that is to be sought
after, namely, dominion over nature, there is at the same time implied
a command to realize this supremacy of the rational spirit through
moral activity. But within this command there lies also a discretionary
field. The particular manner how man is to realize this dominion, is
not expressed in the command, but is left to his free personal
self-determination--in so far as he does not thereby come into
collision with other moral commands. Thus, man may use animals for his
own purposes, may domesticate them, train them, force them to help him.
and use them for his nourishment; but as to what choice of them he
shall make, and as to what kind of service he shall exact of them, this
is left to his discretion,--here he may act freely, here he has the
full enjoyment of his freedom. For unfallen man there was no need of
narrower limits; but when depravity gained the upper hand these limits
were drawn closer, and the Mosaic law gives very specific and narrower
bounds within which man, as no longer morally stable, was to exercise
his freedom upon nature.--The first definite command of God presents at
once, along-side of the expressed command, also the allowed: "Of every
tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat; but of the tree of the
knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat;" whatever he may choose
of the other trees is per se good; the choice he shall make is not
prescribed; simply a boundary is set, beyond which begins evil. Now, we
cannot say that this choosing within the given limits is of a
morally-indifferent character; rather is such choice, as the
realization of a good, itself morally good; and this goodness, consists
in the simple fact that every choice is good, and that the choice of
the one is not better and not worse than the choice of the other. To
infer from this that the single objects of the choice are morally
indifferent, would be to overlook the fact that the moral element does
not lie in the object, but in the choosing person, and that the latter
exercises his morality precisely in the fact of freely choosing in
accordance with the peculiarity of his personality; not to choose at
all would be to despise the divine gift, and hence immoral.
In the state of innocence the sphere of the allowed was,
notwithstanding the indispensable educative limitation, wider than it
was subsequently in the state of sin, not, however, because men were
then morally more contracted, but because they were morally purer. In
consequence of redemption from the power of sin, the now sanctified
personality becomes also freer, and the sphere of the allowed is
enlarged; herein lies one of the most essential differences between Old
Testament and New Testament ethics. The moral itself receives, in
contrast to the specifically and particularizingly prescribing ancient
law, a more general form, and the whole law and the prophets are summed
up in one short command: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." The sanctified personality acts
within the limits of the law with more freedom; the boundaries of the
allowed, as established for the state of sin, are thrown more into the
back-ground; the laws as to the Sabbath and as to meats and other
similar prescriptions, are thrown into a freer form by the personality
as made free in Christ. Instead of the limiting laws regulating the use
of "meats," and other material objects in general, and which were
framed with reference to the sinful impurity of man, Christ gives the
broad principle: "Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man,
but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man" [Matt. xv,
11]; and Paul expresses this in a still more general form: "Every
creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received
with thanksgiving" [1 Tim. iv, 4]; and elsewhere [Titus i, 15] he
states the thought in its highest exaltation: "Unto the pure all things
are pure;" that is, the higher the morality rises, so much the wider
becomes also the sphere of the allowed, and hence of freedom; and upon
him who is morally perfect, who is inwardly fully identified with the
divine will, there is no longer imposed any degree whatever of
outwardly-legal limitation to the employment of his freedom; for
whatever he can love, that God loves also, and his sanctified
personality cannot choose any thing that would be offensive to
God,--and such a person is again invested with his original full right
of dominion over nature, with his full right of free choice; and
whatever he does of free choice, that he does to the glory of God [1
Cor. x, 31].
The words of Paul [1 Cor. vii, 28] may serve as a further illustration
of the notion of the allowed: "If thou marry, thou hast not sinned;"
whereas on this very occasion the apostle dissuaded from marriage. The
Christian has a right to marriage; whether, however, under
circumstances that would otherwise morally admit of it, he put into
execution this right, does not depend on any particular legal
prescription, but on his own untrammeled personal choice. Paul had
discretionary "power to lead about a sister, a wife, as well as other
apostles" [1 Cor. ix, 5]; but he did not do so; all have the "power to
eat and to drink" [verse 4], but our choice is, within particular
limits, left free. Ananias was at liberty to keep his field or not
[Acts v, 4]; what he did was of his own election; it was not a moral
law, but solely his personal choice that determined his conduct. [Comp.
1 Cor. vi, 12; x, 23; Rom. xiv, 1 sqq.; xv, 1 sqq.; Matt. xii, 3, 4.]
The sphere of the allowed is the more special theater of personal
freedom, as distinguished from mere moral freedom. In obedience to the
commanding law I am indeed free, but this freedom is nevertheless a
controlled one; it is true, I can will and act otherwise than the law
wills, but I dare not; and if I in fact do so, then I violate the law,
then I am an enemy of God; I have the liberty but not the right so to
act. Commanded duty has consequently, notwithstanding the liberty on
which it rests, always still a certain constraint in it; and though in
the mere literal fulfillment of the law, man becomes conscious of his
freedom, yet he does not come to a proper and full enjoyment thereof.
If God's law actually entered, prescribing and prohibiting, into all
the details of individual action, without, by some concessions,
allowing play-ground for discretionary action, then, though man would
indeed have the privilege of freely obeying or disobeying at each
particular moment, nevertheless he would feel the law as a burden upon
him; and Paul was very apt in expression when he spoke of the
preparatory law of the Old Covenant as a chastening-master. For the
simple reason that the essence of man is freedom or self-determination,
it is natural for him to aspire to become also fully conscious of this
freedom,--to put it into exercise in so far as consistent with his
moral obedience,--and hence he needs a free field wherein he may act
with real freedom, without having his actions in every respect
prescribed to him, without being strictly bound by the law,--where, in
a word, he may say: I may choose this, but I do not need to choose it;
and whether I choose this or that depends entirely on my personal
self-determination, and that too without detriment to my moral duty.
The sphere of the allowed stands in the same relation to that of the
express law as play to earnest activity. Play also is an element
essential to the full development of youthful moral life. With the
child, play is of high moral significancy, as it is thereby that it
learns to comprehend, to exercise, and to enjoy its full personal
freedom. In learning and working the child is also free; but however
good and zealous of work it may be, it is nevertheless conscious at the
same time of being controlled by an objective law to which it must
adapt itself; the other and equally legitimate phase of its life, that
of personal freedom and self-determination, is revealed to it in its
purest form only in play; and the child, even the morally-good one,
finds so great a delight in play, for the simple reason that it thereby
comes to the enjoyment of its personal freedom; and the essence of its
enjoyment lies in the simple fact that in its playful activity and
feats it is free lord of its own volitions and movements; and those
children become spiritually dull whose plays are strictly watched over
by tutorial intermeddling. Playing is freedom, however, only in form,
and is without definite contents; hence it is essentially only a
transition-occupation appropriate to the age of childhood. The sphere
of the allowed in general, is the wider and positive-grown extension of
that play. Here belongs recreation after labor, as in contrast to the
positive fulfilling of the law; recreation is per se morally good and
its essence consists in freedom; that I select precisely this path for
a promenade, or busy myself thus or thus, is neither prescribed to me
by any law, nor is that which I do not select forbidden. It is entirely
erroneous to say that man must be totally swallowed up in his calling,
that he has a definite duty to fulfill at every moment; this would be a
moral slavery. The sphere of personal liberty has also its own good
right, and for the plain reason that man is not merely an obligated
member of the whole, but also a free individuality. Recreation per se
is therefore by no means of a morally indifferent character, but the
particular mode of its realization is discretionary, and the moral law
is not, at this point, of a detailed particularizing character, but it
simply hovers protectingly on the outskirts, and wards against
abuses,--even as a prudent educator simply exercises a protecting
oversight over the child's play, but does not prescribe the details.
Man is indeed moral at every moment of his existence, and should at
each moment be and act morally right. but every thing that he does is
nevertheless not a direct expression of some moral formula, on the
contrary there is a share therein that belongs, and rightly too, to
personal free choice,--just as, in regard to his clothing, a sensible
man, though in the main following the prevalent mode, will nevertheless
reserve the privilege of deviating therefrom whenever it better suits
his personal individuality.--Even as a fish in the water, though indeed
swimming according to the natural laws of gravitation and motion, yet,
within the scope of these laws, disports itself at pleasure, and
exhibits precisely in this free motion the traits which distinguish it
from the unfree plant, so also does man, within the limits and
conditions of the moral law, comport himself freely on the field of the
allowed, and in so doing manifests the characteristics of the free
child of God as in contrast to servitude under a chastening law.
Schleiermacher (Werke III, 2, 418 sqq.) denies the admissibility of the
notion of actions that are merely allowed. We have, in his opinion, no
time for that which claims to be, not duty, but simply allowed, not
morally necessary, but only morally possible; every performance of such
an action implies a definite willingness to act otherwise than from
moral motives,--which is immoral; the idea of the allowed belongs not
to ethics but to civil law. This we concede in so far as Schleiermacher
speaks of such actions as are held to be neither in conformity nor in
disconformity to duty, that is morally indifferent, but this is by no
means the true idea of the allowed. However, we do not admit the
existence of such a class of actions; but in morally-good actions there
is a phase which is not determined by the law itself, and which
constitutes the allowed.--Rothe (Ethik, 1 Auf. S: 819) finds the idea
of the allowed in the fact that particular forms of action cannot be
referred with certainty to a particular legal formula, so that
consequently their moral worth cannot be estimated thereby beyond a
doubt. The reason of this may lie in the incompleteness of the law;
hence the allowed has a larger scope in the minority-period and with
children; but as the law becomes more definite and perfect, the sphere
of the allowed grows narrower; the more fully man is as vet without
positive law, so much the more numerous are the actions that are
allowed to him; but there arrives a turning-point in the development
where the relation again changes, and for the reason that, then. the
law begins to retire into the background and to become progressively
simpler, so that the sphere of the allowed becomes again more
extensive. With this view of Rothe we cannot coincide. According to it
the sphere of the allowed rests only on a lack of the law, and it
would. be more properly termed the sphere of the morally doubtful.
Adam, however, to whom the allowed was at once presented in connection
with the commanded and the prohibited, could not possibly be in doubt
as to what would be moral for him; and the divine word placed before
him with perfect definiteness the sphere within which he was allowed
entire freedom of action. And it is utterly erroneous to say that in
childhood the sphere of the allowed is wider than in maturer years. The
fact that many a thing is allowed to the child which does not become it
in later years, is not a proof that it has a wider liberty, but only
that at this period the allowed lies in a different circle, and one
that answers to the childish understanding; on the contrary, the fact
undoubtedly is, that to the child more things by far are not allowed
which are allowed to the man, than conversely; and every wider stage of
development brings to the youth a consciousness of an increased freedom
of self-determination, although, on the other hand, it is true that the
more earnest demands that are made by the growing positiveness of the
life-work, exclude much of the earlier childish liberty. But that there
comes again afterward a turning-point when a contrary relation begins,
cannot be substantiated, and moreover it conflicts directly with the
idea of a constantly progressive development toward moral
maturity.--With a similar tendency, Stahl (Rechts-philos. II, 1, 112)
transfers the allowed beyond the sphere of the ethical proper, as being
in its fulfillment morally indifferent, and into the sphere of
satisfaction, that is, of earthly enjoyment; hence he infers
consistently enough, that the sphere of the merely allowed must
constantly decrease as morality advances, and that satisfaction is
ultimately to be sought only in that which is at the same time a
fulfilling of the moral law,--as, for example, in the exercise of
benevolence, etc. Christian Friedrich Schmid arrives at the same
conclusion (Sittenl., p. 450 sqq.). According to this view the sphere
of the allowed would amount in fact but to a sphere of the non-allowed,
and would be simply a temporary concession to moral immaturity and
weakness. This seems to us incorrect. For a truly rational man, there
can be no other satisfaction than a moral one; whatever he does and
receives, he does and receives in faith and love and with thanksgiving,
and in virtue of this thankfulness every truly allowable enjoyment
becomes invested with a moral character. Stahl appeals to the fact
that, with the progress of moral development, many a thing that is
otherwise allowed must be renounced; but this is only in appearance a
greater limitation; for though it is true that mature man no longer
allows himself many of the pleasures of his unripe youth, yet he has in
their stead other and wider fields of the allowed which are denied to
youth. The greater freedom of the Christian as compared with the
law-observer of the Old Testament, is perfectly evident. It is true,
many things were allowed to the Jew, which, because of the higher
morality introduced, are no longer allowed to the Christian, such as
the putting away of wives, and retaliation [Matt. v, 31 sqq.], so that
it might seem as if the sphere of the allowed, and hence of personal
freedom, were really more narrowly limited in Christianity than in
Judaism. However, when we reflect upon the above-cited declarations of
Paul as to the contrast of Christian freedom to the yoke of the law,
the matter will doubtless appear in reality very differently. Many
things were not indeed morally allowed to the Jews, but only tolerated
in them, because of their hardness of heart; the whole significancy of
the moral law was not yet exacted of them, just as in children many a
thing is tolerated and overlooked because of their more limited moral
knowledge, which in riper persons would be regarded as improper and
blameworthy, without implying, however, that that which is tolerated is
actually admitted as allowable. The fact is, that as the moral
consciousness grows in clearness, the compass of duties grows wider
also, so that many a thing that was not previously a moral requirement
now becomes really such. This does not, however, render the sphere of
the allowed narrower, but in fact wider, inasmuch as every duty admits
also of a variety of ways of fulfillment, and consequently also a
diversity of ways of virtualizing our personal peculiarities. Thus, the
fact that consorts may no longer discard each other, though at first
sight a seeming limitation of the sphere of the allowed, yet really
greatly exalts the moral personality of both parties; they have by far
a higher right in each other,--may require more of each other, may more
strongly emphasize the right of their moral personality, may each allow
to the other, and to himself toward the other, more than would be
proper were marriage merely an easily-dissolved contract,--even as the
son of the house is freer and may allow himself more liberty than the
servant, and for the simple reason that the former is more indissolubly
united with the house than the latter;--the closer and firmer the bond,
so much the greater mutual trust and confidence, so much wider also the
sphere of the allowed.
Writers often admit two different species of the allowed: the one is
allowed because of the meagerness of the moral knowledge, as with the
child; the other, conversely, because of the advanced state of the
moral maturity. This difference, however, is by no means a real one;
and, when expressed in this form, the idea of the allowed has no longer
any unity, but involves a direct antagonism. Rather do both of these
forms of the allowed fall under the one notion of the rights of the
personal peculiarity. Many things are, for the peculiar nature of the
child, morally good, which are not so for a riper person, and for the
simple reason that the unsuspecting child, in doing that which would be
improper in those of riper years, "thinketh no evil," and because the
sentiment holds good also of unconscious innocence, that "to the pure
all things are pure." And the case is essentially the same with him who
is morally matured; simply the form is different. When man has come,
through moral growth, into a state of conscious innocence, then also to
him, as being pure, many a thing is pure which would be impure to the
sinful.
SECTION LXXXIII.
In so far as the moral law is made into a moral possession of the
person, that is, a constituent element of his personally-moral nature,
it becomes to him a moral principle, a life-rule or maxim; without
moral principles there is no real morality. As in this union with the
personal peculiarity the moral law itself enters into this peculiarity,
hence though it is in fact the same always and for all men, still the
life-rules that grow out of this law, among different persons and
nations and under different conditions in life, must evidently also be
relatively different. The correct shaping of the moral law into
life-rules correspondent to the peculiarity of persons and
circumstances, constitutes the principal work of practical wisdom.--A
disregarding of the rights of the personal peculiarity in the moral
life, and the exclusive application of general and definitely-expressed
laws as direct rules of life, result in a servitude to a legal yoke
(rigorism) which is incapable of producing any truly personal morality,
and has no justification save as a temporary disciplinary process in a
state of depravity.
The law is not of man, but solely of God; life-rules each person makes
for himself, not, however, independently of the law, but as based on
it, though peculiarly modified by his moral personality. The life-rule
or maxim is the law as incarnated, as having become subjective; in it
man has appropriated the law as a personal possession,--has merged it
into his flesh and blood. My life-rule, even in so far as it is
perfectly correct, is valid in this definite form only for me, and it
may legitimately enough be widely different at different life-stages
and under different circumstances. The manifoldness of life-rules
contributes to the esthetic richness of the collective life of the
race; in them the moral idea, though essentially one, yet shapes itself
into a variegated diversity, just as the light of day, though in itself
essentially colorless, is reflected back from flowers in a thousand
varying tints. It is true, the giving scope here for freedom of will
involves also a possibility of immoral self-determination; and it is
also true that sin, in consequence of its essential deceptiveness,
seeks almost always to hide itself under the cloak of pretendedly
legitimate life-rules, and thereby attains to its seductive power, and
that the free personal shaping of the moral law into life-rules is
possible without danger, only as proceeding from pure and sanctified
human nature, so that consequently the severe discipline of the
tutorial law appears as peculiarly appropriate for the divine training
of mankind before the full realization of redemption; but wherever
morality is to become perfect, that is, free, there the law itself must
become an inner freely-appropriated one,--must be received into the
personality as its essential possession, and not as a foreign element,
but as one that has coalesced with its essence; and this essence is a
personally-peculiar one. Even as natural nutriment does not nourish in
its natural crudeness, but only in so far as it is received and really
appropriated into the natural organism and into its peculiarity, so is
it also with the moral law. From the possible danger of subordinating
the unconditional validity of the divine law to individual caprice,
there does not follow a condemnation of the personally-peculiar molding
of the law, but only the requirement that morality be based not on
merely unconscious or obscure feelings or impulses, but upon a positive
clear consciousness of God's will and of one's own moral condition. The
non-governing of one's self, the yielding of one's self to immediate
natural impulses, the giving rein to the spiritual and sensuous
proclivities that already exist irrespective of a knowledge of the
divine will, is per se, even where sin does not yet exist as a power of
evil, immoral. Moral life-wisdom is not an acquisition attained to in
unserious play; and slavish submission to an all-specifying, rigorous
law is easier than the free, moral developing of life-rules on the
basis of the more general moral law. The less ripe the moral
personality, so much the more dictating must be the objective character
of the law, so much the more severe must be its discipline [Gal. iii,
24]; and the riper the moral nature of the person becomes, so much the
more freely and independently may and should he shape the law into
life-rules for himself.
It creates confusion to confound the moral law with personal
life-rules; it inevitably leads either to legal bondage or to moral
laxity. The Scriptures contain not only moral laws, but also life-rules
for particular, not generally existing life-relations, and the
regarding these latter as general moral commands or counsels has
sometimes led Christian ethics into error. When the apostle recommends
celibacy because of the "present distress" [1 Cor. vii,] he gives
simply a life-rule for particular, expressly-stated circumstances; and,
in order to prevent all misunderstanding, he says, in relation to the
unmarried: "I have no commandment of the Lord" [verse 25]. By this,
Paul does not mean that he establishes on his own authority a new
command without reference to any divine law, but only that this
specific life-rule is not itself a divine law, but rather simply a rule
of conduct applying the divine law to particular circumstances. The law
on which it is based, however, is not: "Thou shalt not marry," but:
Care for the things that belong to the Lord, and not for the things
that belong to the world [see verses 32, 34]. Monasticism made of this
life-rule an objective law or counsel. The instructions of Christ to
the apostles, when sent out to prepare the way for himself [Matt. x, 9
sqq.]: "Provide neither gold nor silver nor brass in your purses,"
etc., are not given as a moral rule to the moral man in general, but to
the apostles for this specific mission. But the mendicant orders made
of this also an objective law. When Christ required of the rich young
man to sell all that he had and give it to the poor, it is perfectly
evident that this was simply a specific injunction for this particular
person, seeing that neither Christ nor the apostles required in all
cases, or in any manner, the giving up of possessions, notwithstanding
their strong emphasizing of the duty of charity [Acts v, 4; 1 Tim. vi,
17 sqq.; 2 Cor. viii, 1 sqq.]. The monastic vow of poverty is a
perverted application of this injunction. To the same category belong
the rules of propriety for women, as given in 1 Cor. xi, 5, 10 sqq.,
and in part evidently also the resolution of the Apostolic Council
[Acts xv, 20, 29]. In all such rules either the assigned or the
directly implied reference to particular, but not generally existing
and permanent relations and circumstances, distinguishes them very
readily from general moral laws, the characteristic of which is to be
valid absolutely and always.
SECTION LXXXIV.
The moral law as (by virtue of the particular form into which it is
thrown by the peculiarity of the moral person) requiring its
realization in a particular case, is moral duty; duty is, therefore,
the law as coming to actual application in moral action through the
moral life-rules into which it has been shaped by appropriation into
the moral person,--that is, it is the law as realizing itself under the
form of life-rules, in other words, it is the law as shaping itself in
and for a particular person under particular circumstances, and as
becoming in him a determining and actuating power. I fulfill the law in
that I do my duty. The duties that spring from the same law are
different for different men and for different circumstances.--As,
therefore, duty is the product of two elements, the moral law and the
peculiarity of the person, and as the moral laws collectively, though
existing under the form of a plurality, must yet of necessity
constitute a concordant whole, hence, if we leave out of view the
actuality of sin, a conflict of different duties with each other
(collision of duties) is utterly impossible. The distinction of
conditional and unconditional duties is not correct, and rests on a
confounding of the notions of law and duty.
The moral person does not directly and strictly fulfill the law, but
simply his duty. Even ordinary speech indicates the difference; we do
not say, "my law," but always, "my duty." The law per se is general and
above man; duty is always special and personal. No one person can do
the duty of another; and what is duty for me, may be a violation of
duty for another. The law alone is directly prescribed; to what
particular form of action this law, as appropriated into my
personality, determines or obligates me, is not directly expressed in
the law, but is the result of a moral judgment in view of my special
moral peculiarity and circumstances. We cannot, therefore, with
propriety institute a contrast between conditional and unconditional
duties. The condition is already implied in the relation of the
fulfillment of the law to the fulfillment of duty; what I may not or
cannot now do, is simply not my duty; at another time, however, this
same form of action may become my duty. Any and every duty may, with as
much propriety, be called conditional as unconditional; in its becoming
a duty it is always conditional; whenever, however, it actually
presents itself, there can no longer be any question of conditionality.
Whoever is in a condition to rescue a person from imminent life-peril,
has the unconditional duty of doing so; whoever cannot do so, has no
duty whatever in the matter; between these two positions there is no
third one possible. With like propriety we may say also that the law is
at the same time conditional and unconditional, but in a converse
relation; in its essence it is unconditional, in the manner of its
fulfillment it is always conditional. The law, "Thou shalt love thy
neighbor as thyself," is in its moral contents unconditional; every
human being is an object of this love, but how this love is to be
exercised, in what manner it is actually to manifest itself in actions,
that is, to what definite duties it shall lead, this depends on
manifold conditions not contained in the law itself; to one's husband
or wife, or to parents, one owes a very different love from that due to
friends, and the very same sacrificing love will manifest itself very
differently toward the moral and toward the immoral.
When the law is presented in the general form of command or
prohibition, the manners in which the manifold relations of life make
it the duty of different persons to fulfill it are so different, that
there may even arise an appearance of contradiction. The fact is,
however, that for a real conflict (collision) of duties (a subject
which has from of old been a favorite and much discussed one among
moralists) there is in a normal state of humanity no possible place.
Moral laws cannot come into conflict with each other, otherwise the
idea of the moral, and the moral order of the universe itself, would be
undermined; and there is just as little ground for a conflict between
duties, seeing that their conditionment is in fact based in part on the
personal peculiarity and special circumstances of the subjects. The
personal peculiarity of a sinful man may indeed come into conflict with
the moral law; but in so far as this is the case it forms no legitimate
element in the construction of the notion of duty; rather will it
become our duty in many respects to counteract this element. But all
legitimate personal peculiarity is itself formed in harmony with the
moral idea, and hence cannot come into conflict therewith. For an
irreconcilable collision of duties there is, therefore, nowhere any
manner of possibility.
The idea of duty is often otherwise understood than as here presented.
Duty is frequently declared to be the divine law itself. Now if by this
is meant, that which God requires of us in each particular case, and
that too of each individual in particular, then it would be
correct,--this, however, is not expressed by the term "law;" but if it
means, that duty and the divine law are identical, then it is
incorrect. More definite is the statement, that duty is the manner of
action which conforms to or harmonizes with the law. The Kantian school
explains duty as that which, according to the law, should take place,
or which, by virtue of a law, is practically necessary, or which
answers to an obligation,--obligation being understood as the necessity
of an action in consequence of a moral law. All these statements are
inadequate, inasmuch as the personal peculiarity is left out of the
account, so that consequently no difference whatever is made between
duty and law; and as to how obligation differs from duty we are utterly
unable to see. Schleiermacher in his System (S: 112 sqq.) defines duty
as "the form of conduct in which the activity of the reason is at the
same time special, as directed upon the particular, and also general,
as directed upon the totality," or, the law of the free
self-determination of the individual in relation to the common moral
life-task of the race, or, the formula for the guidance of rationality
in single actions in the realizing of the highest good. That these, in
the main, correct statements, are still too indefinite, is shown even
by their numerousness. Similarly, but more definitely, Rothe explains
duty as that definite form of action which is required by the moral law
as under the form impressed upon it by the individual instance.
SECTION LXXXV.
To duty on the part of the moral subject, corresponds right on the part
of the law. My duty is to fulfill the right of the moral law, that is,
the right of God to, or his claim upon, me. The substance of dutiful
action is therefore justice or right, and the product of this action is
the right, i. e., the realized claim. Hence dutiful action is per se
right-doing. Duty and right call for each other,--are but two phases of
the same thing; to every right there corresponds a duty, and
conversely,--simply the subjects are different; every duty is the
expression of a right; another's right in regard to me is for me a
duty, and to the fulfillment of another's duty in regard to me I have a
right; the two ideas are absolutely correlative and co-extensive. In
virtue of duty I accomplish the moral, for the law has a right, a
claim, upon me; in virtue of right the moral is accomplished upon me;
in the fulfilling of duty I keep the law; in my accomplishing of the
right the law keeps me. The fulfilling of my duty obtains for me a
right to, or claim upon, the moral law in so far as this law is an
element of universal order, namely, the right to be a real, living, and
hence free, member of the moral whole,--in other words, a. moral claim
on the just recompense of God. There is, morally, no other right of an
individual than such as is conditioned by a corresponding fulfillment
of duty on his part; rights without duties would be a reversing of
moral world-order. God has an absolutely unlimited right because he is
absolutely holy, and man, as related to God, is under absolute
obligations. All right has therefore its basis in God's right and in
God's love. Hence in the Scriptures the notion of duty is nearly always
presented as an indebtedness,--as the right of God to man, as what man
owes to God. God's righteousness has a right to righteousness in man,
and hence righteousness is man's duty; those who fulfill their duty are
therefore the righteous.
As duty is not merely of a subjective character, a mere utterance of
the individual consciousness, but the law as appropriated by the
person, so also, and equally emphatically, is right also not a mere
subjective something with no better basis than a merely fortuitous
power of the individual. Every right of the individual is a special
expression of the right of the whole, and is valid only in so far as
this individual is in moral harmony with the whole. Whoever by
undutiful conduct dissolves his union with the moral whole, loses
thereby, in like measure, his right to or claim upon the whole. Duty
and right are both an expression of the moral; the former is the moral
as subjective obligation, the latter is the moral as objective
requirement; both manifest the essence of the moral as an essential law
of collective being. The individual has duties and rights only as in
vital union with the whole. I have duties and rights, not in virtue of
being a mere individual, but in virtue of the fact that the totality of
being bears a moral character. From this it follows at once, that there
can be true duties and rights only where the morality of the whole is
based, not merely on the morality of the individual persons,--which
would be a mere arguing in a circle,--but where it is based on the
holiness of the personality of God. I can keep and fulfill the law only
when the law keeps and fulfills me; I can do my duty only when I
therein recognize a right or claim of the moral whole, and hence of the
holy God, upon me. An impersonal whole has no right to, nor claim upon,
the personal spirit; from such a servitude Christianity has
definitively emancipated human thought; nor has one man, as upon his
fellow, any other right or claim than such as he derives from God; that
is, he has it only by the grace of God; that man has per se a right
upon his fellow, irrespective of God, is an un-Christian view; "Be not
ye the servants of men" [1 Cor. vii, 23]; this is Christian right and
Christian freedom.
In such a moral world-order where duty and right are absolutely
correlative, where right extends as far as duty, and duty as far as
right, every one receives strictly his own right--his due. The dutiful
man has a right upon the moral whole,--a right to have his personality
respected,--and it is thus that the moral law, the moral world-order,
realizes itself on man; it upholds in a just and honorable position him
who has upheld it. He who gives honor to God, to him God gives also his
honor. Also he who violates duty receives his right; every punishment
is the fulfilling of the right of God and of the collective universe
upon the individual; the criminal has a right to the punishment; when
the criminal comes to his right mind he demands himself his own
punishment, and a child that is not totally perverted finds a moral
tranquillization in suffering the punishment it deserves,--it even
calls for it.
The notion that the fulfillment of moral duty acquires for man a claim
upon the moral order of the world, and hence upon God, is emphatically
rejected by Schwarz (Eth. I, p. 199), who even declares such a view as
blasphemous; God alone, he holds, is the absolutely-entitled One; man
has, as toward God, simply duties, but no rights; God only can have
claims upon us, not we upon God. And he appeals for support to Rom. ix,
20; xi, 35 sqq.; Job ix, 12; Luke xvii, 10. The first two passages,
however, relate to the impossibility of fathoming the eternal divine
counsel, and declare any doubt as to God's holiness and righteousness
as unjustifiable; moreover all of them relate exclusively to the
condition of sinfulness, in which we of course concede, in harmony with
Scripture, that all salvation rests exclusively on the undeserved and
compassionate mercy of God. We are now speaking, however, of man as not
yet under sin, of the moral life in its unclouded purity, and here the
matter stands very differently. If God's righteousness is not a mere
empty figure of speech, it must form the basis of a moral right; we
cannot doubt that God rewards each according to his moral conduct; and
when a truly moral creature receives from God a just reward [Rom. ii,
6, 7, 13], this is not a mere compassionating gift, but it is justice,
and the creature has, in virtue of his righteousness, a claim upon such
a reward. It is indeed a gracious gift of the Creator, that he has made
the creature thus noble, that it is permitted to bear in itself God's
own image; but that God regards and treats the creature that has become
positively holy, in view of and in reference to that fact, is simply
justice. As the sinner receives but his right when the divine
punishment falls upon him, so also the sinless creature receives but
his right when he is an object of the divine pleasure. To think
otherwise on this point would be to overthrow our notion of a holy and
just God. The Scriptures express very distinctly this thought of the
right of the moral person upon God, even in circumstances where,
because of sin, there can no longer be any question of a right strictly
speaking,--so that, then, it is in fact a pure grace that God,
notwithstanding this, yet concedes to man such rights. Of the
justifying faith of Abraham, Paul says, "To him that worketh is the
reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt" [Rom. iv, 4]; if therefore
man should really and truly fulfill the law of God, then his reward
would fall to him in due course of justice. The inference of the
apostle, as to the worth of faith for sinful man, would not have the
least basis should we presume to regard this declaration of his as per
se meaningless and impossible; and this holds good in the fullest sense
of man as untouched by sin, as also it is true of the Son of man. The
true and real fulfilling of the law has in fact eternal life as its
just reward [Matt. xix, 17]; the only question is, as to whether in
fact any person perfectly fulfills the law as Christ did. The doctrine
of grace for the redeemed is not interfered with by that of a claim of
the moral man upon God, but receives in fact thereby its proper
foundation. In the idea of the Covenant which God made with the
Patriarchs, and as to which he himself says: "I have made a covenant
with my chosen, I have sworn to David my servant: Thy seed will I
establish forever," etc., there is contained also the idea of a right
upon God as graciously conceded even to sinful man, provided he should
obey the voice of God and keep his commandments [Psa. lxxxix, 4; Exod.
ii, 24; xix, 5; Deut. vii, 8, 9, 12; ix, 5]. That God should make such
a covenant, is pure grace; but now that He, the truthful One, has made
it, it follows that those who keep it acquire thereby a right to its
fulfillment on the part of God; and hence the pious of the Old Covenant
make appeal in their petitions to the promises of God [Gen. xxxii, 12;
Exod. xxxii, 13; Deut. ix, 26 sqq.]. The great emphasis which the
Scriptures place upon the thought of the covenant of God with man,
which is, in fact, more than a promise, implies very clearly that here
the moral character of God, as well as that of man, is essentially
involved. We need only separate from the idea of a right all that the
sinful heart has associated therewith, all that is presumptuous and
self-seeking, and it will no longer have the least feature that could
give offense to the most reverential mind. The Scriptures present the
thought of duty as intimately connected with the idea of right; and
this involves, in fact, the profoundest conception of the moral. Here,
all dutiful living, on the part of man, is a right of God upon him
(mspt), a paying of his debt to God,--it is hopheile,--and man is
debtor to God and to the brethren [Rom. i, 14; viii, 12; Luke xvii, 10;
comp. 1 Cor. vii, 22]; and God's laws are an expression of the rights
of God [Lev. xviii, 4, 5; xix, 37; xxv, 18; Deut. vii, 12; xxxiii, 10;
Psa. xix, 10; 1, 16; cv, 45; cxix, 5 sqq.; Isa. xxvi, 9; and others].
By virtue of his moral nature, of the likeness of God that was
impressed upon him, man becomes in turn a debtor,--is under obligation
to bring this nature into realization, to fulfill the claim or right of
God upon him; and he who fulfills this right is consequently just or
righteous; "He hath showed thee, O man, what is good (the moral law);
and what doth the Lord require of thee (as duty) but to do justly (the
right) and to love mercy?" [Micah vi, 8; comp. Deut. x, 12, 13]. Thus,
as it appears, the Scriptures present rather the objective phase of the
moral, the right of God and of the divine law upon man; whereas the
moralists of recent times, especially since Kant, devote their
attention rather to its subjective phase, as duty.
In the manner of viewing the relations between right and duty there
often prevails some confusion; right is often confounded with
discretionary power, whereas, in fact, the former is more than the
latter, and contains an actual requirement; or, right is regarded as
the mere possibility or liberty to act. Furthermore a great difference
is frequently made between right and the right, the two being taken as
capable of excluding each other, so that I may have a right and yet its
execution be not right. This, in so far as the question is as to moral
right, is manifestly absurd. It is true, according to civil law, I may
have a so-called right in the exercising of which I shall do wrong; but
of such civil right we are not here speaking; in the sphere of morality
I can never have a right to what is wrong, and I can never exercise a
right without doing the right. I have a right only in so far as the
moral law takes me under the protection of the moral order of the
universe; I have a right upon another in so far as he has a moral duty
to fulfill toward me; I have right conduct in so far as I myself
realize the moral law; and this I do in fact when I do not throw away
my own moral right, but maintain it intact. Whenever I have a moral
right, then is it also right to realize it.
CHAPTER III.
THE OBJECT OF THE MORAL ACTIVITY.
SECTION LXXXVI.
As the moral is the free realizing of the good, and as the good itself
is the inner law and nature of the divinely-created All, hence, in
every moral activity, man comes into relation to this All, and this
All--as well as also God himself--becomes in its entire existence, so
far as within the scope of man, an object of the moral activity,
namely, either in that as a good it is brought into unity with the
moral person, or appropriated by the same,--or in that, as material
capable of being modified, it is formed by the moral activity.
I. The moral life relates primarily always to God. God can be an object
of the morally-pious activity only in so far as he is conceived of as a
personal spirit; to an impersonal God there can be no moral relation.
This moral activity is not a mere receiving, but it is a real acting,
namely, in that man not only turns himself toward God, but in that he
also turns God toward himself; the good that is realized by this
activity becomes actual, however, not in God, but in us, in that it
brings us into communion with God, so that consequently all pious
activity is at the same time a moral producing for ourselves.--As God
upholds, and rules in, all creatures, hence all moral activity without
exception stands in relation to God, and all realizing of the good
works communion with God. All that is moral is also pious, and all that
is pious is also moral. Hence all duties are also duties to God, and
religious duties do not stand along-side of other duties, but they
include them in themselves.
Every view is defective which excludes from the moral life any thing
whatever that comes into the life-sphere of man. This is precisely that
which distinguishes rational creatures from the irrational, namely,
that the latter have always simply a quite definite and restricted
scope for their life-manifestation, while every thing else is
indifferent to them, and as good as not existing, whereas rational
creatures have an interest in all that exists, and bring it into some
manner of relation to themselves. Perfect indifference to the world is
Indian, but not Christian, wisdom; God is indifferent to nothing, and
for this reason moral man, the image of God, is so also. The collective
All and God himself constitute the life-sphere of the moral. Because of
the inner unity of all things, every moral act not only reverberates in
the whole universe, and there is joy among the angels in heaven over
one sinner that repents, but this act itself acts upon the All, for all
that is good and all that is capable of good belong together in one
great unity. The declaration: "Whether life, or death, or things
present or things to come--all are yours" [1 Cor. iii, 22], holds good
in its fullest sense of the moral life, although indeed our moral
bearing toward the different forms of existence is correspondingly
different; to nature the moral spirit is related as dominating, to God
as obeying.
The conceiving of God himself as an object of the moral activity is a
fundamental point in Christian ethics. It is true the heathen also
required reverence toward the gods, but this exercise of piety did not
rise to a dominating power over the entire moral life. In recent times
it has become a favorite view to regard the moral as not relating to
God at all, but only to man, or indeed also to nature; it is even said
that God cannot be an object of the moral activity, seeing that because
of his unapproachable sublimity he must be inaccessible to all human
influence. Evidently, with this view of the matter, prayer is narrowed
down to a mere pious exercise without any other possible efficacy than
to benefit the person so exercising; it would be more consequential,
however, for those who think thus to follow Kant, and discard prayer
altogether as empty and meaningless. It does not come within our scope
to answer here the question, how the answering of prayer is
reconcilable with the eternally-immutable nature of God, but we simply
accept from dogmatics the unquestionably Scriptural principle, that God
actually does hear and answer prayer, that prayer and its answering are
not a delusion, but that proper prayer really and truly conditions the
answering of the petitions, and that consequently it has a positive
influence on the bearing of God toward man. True prayer is impossible
so soon as I entertain the opinion that it has no effect, that the
gracious turning of God toward me is not in some way conditioned
thereby. This does not imply that God comes into any manner of
dependence on man; whatever he does is eternally self-determined, but
it is determined in view of the moral bearing of man as divinely gifted
with rational freedom. In this sense, prayer is really a moral activity
in relation to God, and God is a real object of the same. Prayer is the
beginning and the end of all moral activity. The sentiment: "Pray and
work," holds good of all and every moral life; the two do not stand
beside each other, but consist only in and with each other.
God, as living and personal, cannot sustain a relation of indifference
to human conduct. If we can speak in any proper sense of a displeasure
of God at sin, of a wrath of God against sin, then must also,
conversely, the pleasure of God in the moral conduct of man be of a
real character, and hence, in some manner, conditioned by said conduct.
The moral activity as relating to God is per se necessarily pious; but
to presume, for this reason, to exclude it from the sphere of the
moral, would be very inconsistent; for in fact it takes place with
freedom, and with moral consciousness and with moral purpose, and it is
frequently, in the Scriptures, expressly required as a duty; and all
duties are moral. But, on the other hand, all duties are also pious,
inasmuch as morality is always in very close association with piety (S:
55), and no duty can in fact be truly fulfilled without being regarded
as an expression of the divine will, and hence without pious submission
to that will. We therefore must reject the view that there are no moral
duties toward God, and no moral influencing of God; if there are sins
against God, as, for example, blasphemy, then there must also be duties
toward Him,--and we must, further, reject the view that the duties
toward God constitute a special group entirely distinct from the
others, so that in fact the duties toward man might be fulfilled
without at the same time also fulfilling those toward God.
The distribution of the subject-matter of ethics into duties toward
God, duties toward one's self and duties toward other men, was formerly
very usual; it was, however, only partially correct. God fills, in
fact, heaven and earth, and the statement of Christ that whatever "ye
have done unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it
unto me" [Matt. xxv, 40], is of course true also in relation to God. It
might, however, be said that, while it is true that all other duties
imply in themselves also a fulfillment of duty toward God, yet that the
converse is not true, so that consequently the duties of piety might be
considered by themselves, seeing that in fact in the duty of worshiping
God no other duty is directly implied. This is, however, only seemingly
so; for in every duty toward God, I fulfill also directly at the same
time a duty toward myself: I cannot possibly love and honor God without
exalting myself into communion with Him; whatever man does to the honor
of God is at the same time a self-transfiguration; he cannot praise God
as his Father without confirming himself as the child of God. Moreover
he can do this only in so far as he, at the same time, divests himself
of illegitimate self-love; and only that one can be in communion with
God, who likewise enters into communion with the God-fearing. The
fulfilling of our moral duties toward God implies consequently in
itself, really and directly at the same time also, the fulfilling of
our duties toward those who are beloved of God. Hence, the moral
relation to God is the central spring of all other moral life, and our
duties toward God do not stand co-ordinate with and apart from our
other duties.
SECTION LXXXVII.
II. The moral activity as strengthened by its moral relation to God,
that is, by communion with Him, comes now, and only in consequence of
this strengthening, into a truly moral relation to the
created,--comprehending both the moral person himself and also the, to
him, objective world.
(1) The moral person is his own object. Man is morally to form, to
cultivate himself--to make his personal peculiar reality a product of
his moral activity. Man is what he is as a person solely in virtue of
moral activity; without this activity he remains in spiritual
unculture, and is essentially impersonal. Hence man is, in so far, an
object of his own moral activity, as he has not yet attained to his
ultimate perfection,--in so far as he is a cultivable and, as yet,
relatively incompleted being, that is, in so far as there is yet a
difference between his ideal and his reality. Man is to form himself
into a good entity, that is, into a personal reality that is in full
harmony with God, with itself and with the All, in so far as this is
good.
The possibility of man's bearing a moral relation to himself rests on
the nature of rational self-consciousness, wherein man becomes in fact
an object to himself. If man were from the very start absolutely
perfect and complete, he would still be, even then, an object of his
own moral activity, only however under its conserving, but not under
its formative, phase. Progressive development is implied in the very
nature of the created spirit, and there is no stage of temporal life
conceivable where man would not have a still higher perfection to
attain to, and further moral culture to work out.--All self-forming,
unless kept in harmony with God, becomes necessarily anti-moral. Man
can, it is true, develop himself in harmony with himself without being
in harmony with God, --this is, however, a culture of self into the
diabolical; and if he forms himself merely in harmony with the world,
he becomes an immoral worldling, and if in this worldliness he leaves
self-harmony out of the question, then he becomes simply characterless.
(a) The spirit is an object of the moral activity in virtue of its
being per se merely the possibility of its real development into a
rational spirit,--the germ of itself,--and because it does not develop
itself into its full reality by inner nature-necessity, but by freedom.
Man has, in virtue of his very constitution, the task of forming
himself into the full reality and truth of spiritual being, namely, in
respect both to his knowing, to his feeling, and to his willing,--that
is, into the perfect image of God. The soul-life of brutes shapes
itself by inner nature-necessity; brutes have no need of education;
man, however, without education and without moral self-culture would
sink below the brute, and for the evident reason that he would thus
fall into complete self-antagonism; his freedom would become unbridled
barbarity. Spirit lives only by continuous development; where it is not
morally trained, it pines away and degenerates. What Christ says of the
received talents [Matt. xxv, 14 sqq.] is especially true also of the
moral culture of the spirit.
(b) The body is an object of the moral activity in so far as it is the
necessary organ of the spirit in its relation to the world. It is not
from the very start an absolutely subserving and perfectly
spirit-imbued organ (S: 65, 66), nor does it become such by purely
natural development, but it is trained into such only by the rightful
dominating of the rational spirit over it. The merely natural
development of the spirit forms not as yet a spirit's-body, but only an
unspiritual animal body. Even as in the features of the countenance,
spiritual unculture and spiritual refinement are almost always visibly
expressed, so is also the body in its entire being subject to the
refining influence of the moral spirit; and this influence ought not to
be of a merely mediate and unintended character, as resulting from the
unconsciously-ruling potency of the spiritual life in the body, but in
fact also of an immediate character. The good that inheres in the body
is to be faithfully preserved,--the germs of higher perfection to be
developed. Whatever is originally given in the body, whether as
actuality or as capacity, is a legitimate possession of the spirit and
should not be lightly esteemed. To despise the body is to dishonor the
Creator. It should not be honored, however, as merely corporeal, but as
subserving the spirit in its rational life-work,--not as an end in
itself, but as an end for the spirit. "Glorify God in your body;" this
moral precept, the apostle bases on the fact that this body is "a
temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye
are not your own" [1 Cor. vi, 19, 20]. The body is not a mere
nature-object, but a holy temple of a sanctified spirit,--bears the
consecration of a sacred destination; man has not discretionary power
over it, as over a mere nature-object,--not merely as over an
unconditional possession, but as over a good intrusted to him by God,
and belonging to God, and for which he must give account to God.
SECTION LXXXVIII.
(2) The external world as an object of the moral activity,--the widest
and almost endlessly diversified field of this activity,--is--(a) the
world of rational beings,--primarily and chiefly the world of humanity.
To the moral person other persons stand, on the one hand, in the
relation of similarity, in virtue of the common possession of a
rational nature, and, on the other, in the relation of difference, in
so far as each individual is an independent moral person with a special
peculiarity; and it is the part of the moral activity at once to
respect, to acknowledge, to preserve, and to promote both these
features, and to bring them into reciprocal harmony. A human being
never becomes, for the person acting upon it, a merely dependent
rightless object, but in all cases continues to be a personality that
is to be respected in its legitimate peculiarity, and hence it should
never become an unfree and as it were impersonal creation of another,
but it is an object for the moral activity only so far as it is itself
at the same time recognized and treated as a moral subject. The moral
bearing of man to his fellows rests essentially on the thought of the
inner, and not merely conceived, but also real, unity of the human
race, which finds its whole truth only in the thought of the common
origin of all men from a first-created primitive individual.
Here also Christian morality comes into striking antagonism to all
non-Christian morality. The thought of mankind as a homogeneous whole
of which each individual is a legitimate rightful member, is peculiar
to Christianity; the heathen know only nations and compatriots but not
humanity and man; even the free Greek and the Roman make the
distinction both in fact and in law between persons and slaves; the
slave is only a thing, not a moral personality. All acting upon others
which aims simply to exert an influence upon them without also
receiving an influence from them, is immoral. Even the immature child
necessarily exerts some influence upon its educator; and when Christ
presented a child to his disciples as a moral pattern [Matt. xviii, 3,
4], this is not to be regarded as holding good simply in a loose sense
and for the morally immature, on the contrary it is the moral essence
of the child, its God-likeness, that is, in fact, a true mirror of the
moral even for the relatively mature educator, and that has a right to
his respect. That person is a pernicious educator who has never
experienced a real moral influence upon himself from the child,--who
has never recognized in the soul of the child the features of the image
of God, nor been impressed with respect for child-naivete; and it is
the acme of meanness not to respect and sacredly to protect
child-innocence.
The moral conceiving of man as an object of the moral activity,
presupposes that we have in fact to do with real true men, men who are
not only similar to us, but who are bound to us as members of one body.
To creatures which, while belonging to the zoological order bimana, and
while differing from the ape by the formation of the skull and of the
feet and by an erect walk, yet should have been from of old
distinguished, both in their origin and also in their
spiritually-inferior nature, from the so-called "nobler" race of the
whites, we could not come into the same moral relation as to those who
are our brethren. The question as to the origin of the different races
of men has a deep moral significancy, and is of fundamental importance
for ethics. The natural science of the present day, which has become
largely infected with a spirit-denying materialism, is well known to
have until quite recently declared it as a fully-established fact that
the various physically-differing races of men are of different origin,
and cannot have descended from a single primitive race; and there are
not a few persons, in other respects favorable to the Christian faith,
who recognize these pretended "results of modern science" as really
such, and regard them as beyond question. It is not here the place to
examine the scientific worth of these so-esteemed results; we have to
do with the question here only in its moral significancy. We merely
remark in passing, that we must absolutely deny to an experimental
science--and this is the pretended source of said results--the right to
decide upon matters that lie beyond all experience. Such science can
simply affirm what is, or is not, but it cannot decide what cannot
possibly be. "Empirical" natural science may be justifiable in saying,
that so far as experience goes, a white person is never born of a
negro, nor a negro of a white person, though even this is not
uncontested, but it has no scientific ground for inferring, that,
consequently, it can also never have been otherwise. Inferences of this
kind, illegitimate even according to the simplest rules of logic, are
overturned almost daily by the mere progress of science. Moreover, it
is not unworthy of remark that the position: "as it is in the life of
nature now, so must it always have been" is applied to the question
before us by the very same persons who cannot admit that the human race
could have otherwise originated than through some extraordinarily
potent nature-process--through human germs, forsooth, that were cast
from the sea upon the shore,--and who in reply to the question: why
then this interesting nature-process has not repeated itself also in
our own day, or at least during the historical period in general?
immediately exclaim, that nature has declined in her generative power.
On the whole, therefore, and in view of the fact that the latest
"progress" of this particular wing of natural science takes ground in
direct antagonism to the above pretended unassailable "results,"
namely, in regarding man as an advanced development of the ape
(Darwin), we may without the least anxiety spare ourselves the trouble
of refuting the above-mentioned earlier view, and abandon this "modern"
science to its own further self-dissolution.
Christianity has from the beginning had a clear consciousness of the
moral significancy of the original unity of the human race. Though God
had undoubtedly the power to create thousands of men in the different
parts of the earth, instead of one, as he did in fact do in the case of
plants and animals, nevertheless it must be for good reasons that in
the Scriptures the whole human race is assumed to have sprung from a
single stock [Gen. i, 27, 28; ii, 18; iii, 20]. There is involved here
an antagonism of the natural and the spiritual stand-points, and that
too in a moral respect. According to naturalism the unity of the world
is a merely conceived something,--in reality it is a product of a
presupposed multiplicity of single existences; and also the good, which
in its nature is a manifestation-form of unity, is not an element
fundamental and presupposed in every single existence, but it is simply
a consequence--a product of the active individual; the good is ever to
be without ever and truly being. According to the Christian system,
however, the real unity and the real good are every-where the first,
the fundamental, while multiplicity is only of a derived character.
Here the moral is simply and solely the following of God as the
absolutely good One, a free manifestation of a unity with God which in
fact, however, originally existed,--which had not first to be realized,
but only revealed, witnessed, and freely virtualized. Man is able to be
moral only because, in his nature, he is already at one with God. So is
it also in his moral relation to mankind; the unity of the total sum of
individual men is not first to be created out of an original
multiplicity, and to be constituted as an entirely new something, but
it is simply (and this is the origin and the reason of this plurality)
to be freely and morally witnessed and confirmed. Humanity is to become
morally one, for the reason that in their origin they are already one;
love to mankind is simply fidelity to the nature of man as existing
from the beginning. This view is in diametrical antagonism to
naturalistic ethics; and hence Paul presented it very prominently, at
Athens, as the peculiarly-Christian view in contrast to heathenism
[Acts xvii, 26; comp. Rom. v, 12, sqq.]; the latter estranges humanity
into an original diversity; the former attributes all hostile
antagonisms to the workings of sin.
The very natural and in fact morally legitimate feeling, that
blood-relatives stand to us in a closer relation of duty than entire
strangers, contains a profound truth. It calls forth really a very
different and morally more potent feeling, when we know that even the
degenerated negro is of our own blood, our brother, sprang from one
father, than if we should assume that he is originally, and by nature,
of a spiritually and corporeally inferior species [August., De Civ.
Dei., xii, 21]. That which forms no unessential part of the
world-historical honor of Christianity, namely, that it has made
slavery morally impossible, has been again absolutely put into question
by the teachings of naturalism; and it is scientifically as well as
morally a signal indication of inconsideration, and especially so on
the part of theologians, to declare the decision of the question as to
the original unity of the human race as a mere non-essential matter. By
the assumption that there were originally different races, the
slavery-system is not only excused, but it is directly justified. In
fact man has not only not the duty, but he has not the right to break
down the original and naturally-constituted differences of spiritual
existence. But the moral influencing of the degenerate races consists
essentially in raising the actually lower-standing individuals of the
colored races to the height of the whites,--in placing them both, in
spiritually-moral respects, on an equal footing, in making of the
colored races our true and proper brothers, in doing away, in fact,
with whatever places them actually below the whites. But the effort to
do this would be, in the eyes of the above-mentioned teaching, a simple
presumption, a transgression of the limits prescribed to us by nature
herself; according to it, the negro is destined by his primitive and
manifestly inferior peculiarity, to service under the higher race, and
it would be a criminal interference with the ordinances of nature to
wish to change this. That which has hitherto passed for the greatest
stain upon a perverted Christian civilization, the re-establishment of
slavery, can find no more desirable an apology than these results of a
perverted science; and it is a standing and entirely consequential
opinion among even the most liberal-thinking champions of this
tendency, that negroes are in fact but half-men and should remain such.
SECTION LXXXIX.
(b) External nature as an object of the moral activity is such not
merely in its single manifestations, but also in its totality. On the
one hand, nature exists not for itself but for the rational spirit for
man; on the other, it is, as a work of divine creation, a good thing,
and hence has rights in and of itself:--(1) Nature is by origin and
essence destined to be dominated by the rational spirit as God's
image,--to be formed by the spirit into its organ and for its service.
As nature is not per se moral, hence man's moral relation to it does
not consist in his receiving from it a direct moral influence, though
indeed he does receive from it a mediate moral influence through the
contemplation of the image of God as manifesting itself therein, but in
his acting morally upon it. For the single individual, this action is
always limited to a narrow theater, but for humanity it extends to all
terrestrial nature. As the body is related to the individual spirit, so
is nature related to humanity in general; nature's destination is to be
perfectly subservient to man and to be exalted in the service of his
rational destination.--(2) But this dominating of nature is essentially
conditioned on the truly moral and hence rational self-culture of man,
in virtue of which nature is not to be subjected to the whims of
irrational caprice; for, as God's work, nature has claims upon man; it
is legitimately an object for human activity only in so far as main
subordinates himself to the divine will, whose peculiarity it is not to
destroy but to preserve.
The relation of nature to the rational spirit is neither that of an
object absolutely different from and foreign to it, seeing that both
are the work of one creative spirit, nor that of a power entitled to
dominate over the same; this would be a reversing of the moral order of
the world; for that which is per se higher and rational should not be
enslaved under that which is inferior and irrational. If, therefore,
nature and spirit exist for each other, and if they are to constitute
an intimate unity, then the only relation possible is, that the spirit
shall be the dominating power over nature,--the power that forms and
molds it. And if in reality the relation is in many respects now
actually otherwise, still this should not lead us astray in conceiving
of the true relation between them in a sinless state. The rational
consciousness of all nations has at least some presentiment of the
proper relation. Even as in all forms of superstition a more or less
clear expression is given to a presentiment, though indeed misapplied,
of a corresponding deeper truth that lies beyond the grasp of the
superficial understanding, so also has the notion of magic, so widely
prevalent throughout heathendom, its roots in a presentiment of the
true relation of reason to nature. [11] It is but the childishly
perverted thought, that the spirit should not be enslaved under
unspiritual nature,--that its true destination is to cause nature to
subserve it in its own purposes. When Christ, in his character of Son
of man, exerts his mastery over nature, and by his miraculous deeds
counterworks the sufferings that have sprung from the enslavement of
sinful humanity under nature, and when he promises like power also to
his disciples on condition of faith [Matt. xvii, 20; Mark xvi, 17, 18;
Luke x, 19; xvii, 6; John xiv, 12], he simply indicates, though
primarily only in a typical manner, the true goal of human development
in its relation to nature. The miracle does not play feats with nature,
it simply dominates it,--subjects it not to the irrational caprice of
the individual will, but to the rational will of man as in union with
God; and it is a rational demand of the rational will, to be free from
all fetters that lie outside of the rational will,--to be. untrammeled
in its activities by sufferings that spring from bondage to
spirit-hostile nature.
Nevertheless nature is not to be considered as mere material for the
active spirit, and absolutely without rights of its own; it has a right
to be respected, because of the rationality that is impressed upon it.
From the face of nature the Spirit of the Creator beams forth upon us
with striking evidence; here also there is holy ground which man should
not tread with unwashed feet. That is not a moral bearing toward nature
which forgets the image of God that is stamped upon it, and which, in
the zeal of shaping and enjoying it, perceives not that also natural
objects, even while as yet untouched by the plastic hand of man,
proclaim the glory of God. The Hindoo's dread-reverencing of natural
objects, though indeed oblivious of the Creator, has yet a positive
presentiment of the divine in the works of the, to him, unknown God.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MORAL MOTIVE.
SECTION XC.
EVERY motive to action is primarily a feeling; but feeling springs from
a consciousness. And feeling is such motive under both of its forms of
manifestation, as feeling of satisfaction or of dissatisfaction, and
hence of pleasure or of displeasure. The feeling of displeasure is to
be assumed as existing to a certain degree also in a state of strictly
normal life-development, namely, in so far as man, before reaching his
last stage of perfection, has always a consciousness, that as yet
something is lacking to him to which he is yet to attain. This is not
pain, but yet it is a feeling of want.
Any view is contrary to the nature of the soul-life which assumes any
other soul activity, as, for example, cognition, as the most immediate
motive of the moral. Thought per se contains nothing that moves the
will; but thought is in fact never absolutely alone, is never a merely
inert possession, but it excites at once and necessarily a feeling, and
then, through this feeling, the will. I feel myself in some way
affected by the perceived or conceived, more or less agreeably or
disagreeably, according as it is in harmony with, or in contradiction
to, my present state. An entire indifference is here impossible, though
indeed the shades of the feeling of pleasure or displeasure may be very
different,--impossible for the reason that that which I receive into
myself sensuously or spiritually, must necessarily come into some sort
of relation to my present corporeal or spiritual reality, and for the
reason that this relation must always be either one of harmony or
disharmony. It is true indeed that the different phases of a received
impression may have different bearings, and hence the feeling that
arises from them may be of a complex character; nevertheless in this
complexity the elements of the pleasant and the unpleasant remain
always distinct,--do not coalesce together into a feeling of total
indifference, just as every object that is taken for nutriment is
either strengthening or weakening to the body, but cannot be absolutely
indifferent. Now, every feeling stirs up also straightway the will, and
hence activity in general; in case it is a pleasant feeling we desire
to possess its object, either by preserving it or by appropriating it;
in case the feeling is unpleasant we seek to get rid of it. In this
double-movement all action is embraced, and hence also all that is
moral; and this movement itself rests absolutely on an antecedent
feeling. Thought, it is true, is the foundation of the moral, but it is
only the feeling excited thereby that is the motive proper of action.
Only he can will the good who has pleasure in the law of the Lord [Rom.
vii, 22; Psa. i, 2; cxii, 1].--When the thought of something not yet
existing, but which may be realized by my action, awakens in me a
feeling of pleasure, this is in fact the thought of a good, which, by
virtue of this feeling, becomes an intention, which differs from a
resolution in the fact that the latter relates not to the good itself
but to the means of realizing it. While, however, an intention refers
to a good, a purpose refers to the good. I purpose to become a perfect
man; I have an intention of mastering a science; I form a resolution or
determination to study. But a thought becomes to me a purpose only by
the accession thereto of the feeling of love; in a resolution the will
stands forth a little more actively.
It might, now, seem that while in the condition of the primitive
sinless goodness of human nature, there would be place for feelings of
pleasure, that is, of happiness, yet there would not be occasion for
the feeling of displeasure. This would be only then correct when man's
original perfection should be conceived of, contrary to the very idea
of life in general, as a state of completion. But all capability of
development implies a certain lack, though not a fault, nor a non-good;
and every consciousness of a lack awakens the feeling of a want, which,
though it is not a pain, and does not destroy inward happiness, is yet
also not the pleasurable feeling of complete satisfaction. That even he
who is perfectly constituted, and who remains in this perfection,
should still have bodily and spiritual wants, which are per se
necessarily attended with a certain, though indeed only momentary,
feeling of displeasure, is implied in the very nature of the creature
and of its development.
SECTION XCI.
Feeling as relating to the object that excites it, is, as a feeling of
pleasure, love, and, as a feeling of displeasure, hatred. Between these
two there is no third, although both may exist in different degrees and
even in association with each other. Hence love is the feeling of
pleasure which springs from the consciousness of the harmony of a real
or conceived object with the actual state of the subject, together with
a desire to preserve and to perfect this harmony, and hence also to
preserve the being and essence of this object. Hatred is the feeling of
displeasure which springs from the consciousness of an irreconcilable
antagonism between the object and the subject, together with a desire
to destroy this antagonism in the object, even should this involve the
destruction itself of that object. In a normal moral condition of
things where all that exists is good, love alone has a real object,
while hatred has only a possible one.--Love is essentially of a
preserving character, hatred is essentially of a negating, destroying
character; as, however, all moral action aims to create a reality by
continuous development, hence preserving love is necessarily at the
same time also promotive of the being and nature of the beloved object,
and negating hatred is at the same time a confirming of the opposite of
the bated object. Hence love works in order to be able to love always;
hatred works ill order to destroy itself; love lives in order to be
eternal; hatred lives in order to come to an end; only that hatred can
be endless whose object is eternal--namely, Satanic hatred. As moral
hatred is necessarily an effort to destroy the antagonism of existence,
that is, to re-establish its harmony, hence it is in essence the same
thing as love. Hatred is per se as moral as love,--is but its necessary
reverse phase. There is no moral love without hatred, and no moral
hatred without love; pure hatred without love would be simply Satanic
hatred. As moral hatred is in its essence love, hence the actual motive
of all moral activity is love.
"Love is the fulfilling of the law" [pleroma, Rom. xiii, 10]; in this
formula the Christian idea of the moral motive is very definitely
expressed; love leads to the fulfillment of the law; it is the rich
fullness in which all law is included. Without love there is no
morality; and where love is, there morality is truly free, for love
develops itself into all forms of the moral. Hence Christ, after the
example of the Old Testament [Deut. vi, 5; x, 12; xi, 13], sums up the
whole law in the one precept of love to God and to our neighbor [Matt.
xxii, 37; Luke x, 27]; "This is the love of God, that we keep his
commandments" [1 John v, 3]; love is not and cannot be a mere inert
feeling, but it is by its very nature active, it produces that which
its subject loves,--brings about the full and free harmony of the
person and his life with God. Whoever assigns any other motive for
morality than love, knows nothing of the moral. But love tends by its
essential nature to a unity of the diverse,--seeks not its own mere
isolated being. Mere self-love to the exclusion of love to others is
not love at all, but only immoral self-seeking; it is indeed a motive
to action, but to anti-moral action; Even that which appears in the
animal world as an unconscious symbol of moral virtue, is based on
love, and is an expression thereof. There is no form of moral activity
conceivable which would not be an expression of love [1 Cor. xvi,
14].--The moral love of the divine is, per se and necessarily, also
hatred against that which is ungodly. But as the ungodly is primarily
not real but only conceivable, and as this thought itself becomes
really vital only through the reality of sin, it does not come here
properly within our scope.
Love is taken here primarily as not yet a virtue or a disposition, but
as a simple feeling occasioned by a consciousness of harmony or of
disharmony. The love that is required as the fulfilling of the law is
more than mere feeling, though indeed it has feeling as its basis and
essence. And yet the love here in question is not a mere feeling of
pleasure, not a mere impressed state of the heart, but it contains in
itself at the same time a power prompting to an active relation to the
beloved object. All love has for its object a something that is good,
and hence, as relating to the subject, a good (S: 51), and it evidences
the existence of this good by the outgoing and recognizing
life-movement of the subject toward it,--by the effort of the subject
toward the object in order to preserve or intensify its unity, its
harmony therewith. Now as all existences are created for each other and
destined to a self-harmonious life, hence love is the primitive feeling
of all rational creatures,--the direct witness of the goodness of
existence, an echo of that first witness of the Creator as to his
created work, and hence also the innermost vitality of the moral life,
the purpose and essence of which is in fact, harmony, or the good.
Directed toward the good, and hence the divine, love has for itself the
pledge of eternity; whereas moral hatred, as directed against all
non-good, that is, anti-divine, has, in virtue of its negating nature,
for its purpose, the destroying of its object and of itself with it.
Peace is the goal of love and also of hatred,--is an essential phase of
the highest good itself.
SECTION XCII.
If love is the motive to all moral action, and consequently also the
necessary presupposition thereof; hence there must also be an
ante-moral love, one that is per se not yet moral but which simply
leads to the moral. In man's originally-possessed, though not as yet
developed, God-likeness, there is in fact implied an original love
antecedent to all moral volition,--an immediate love of the created
spirit for the Creator as revealing himself to it, and for the
surrounding universe as proclaiming the Creator's love. This direct and
not morally-acquired love is, however, not an unfreely-operating,
compelling instinctive impulse, but receives the character of moral
freedom through the simultaneously awakening consciousness of personal
independence and of the therein-contained love of the person to
himself, so that in virtue of this twofold primitive love, which offers
the possibility of an antagonism as well as of a harmony, man is
invited to a free self-determination.
If the feeling of love is a directly excited one, and, as such, the
presupposition of the moral activity to which it leads, it would seem
as if moral freedom were actually precluded. For this feeling is as yet
involuntary and unfree; and love and hatred produce, directly, a desire
or a rejection. On the other hand, we cannot possibly exclude love from
the sphere of the moral, and make of it a mere antecedent condition of
the same; for according to the Christian consciousness at least, man is
morally responsible for his love and his hatred; love is an object of
duty, and is required by Christ as the essence of all fulfillment of
the law. This seems like an irreconcilable contradiction.
In the first place, it is unavoidably necessary to admit that there is
an ante-moral love. Brutes even have love, and are thereby impelled to
activity; also the child at its mother's breast feels and manifests
love. This is not a love springing from free conscious volition,--not a
moral love,--but a purely natural love, which forms, however, the
necessary antecedent condition of all development to morality.
Primitive man must also have had such a love, inasmuch as without this
a life of God's image is not conceivable. Created in harmony with God
and with the All, he must have had also a direct feeling of this
harmony, must have felt happy in his existence and in his
Paradise-world; and in this feeling of happiness he must also have
loved that whereby it was produced in him; there met him on every hand
the image of divine love, of the harmony of the universe, and he must
have felt and loved it; and when God revealed himself to him as the
loving Father, then must man have experienced also toward Him a feeling
of harmony and love. But all this love is as yet simply a
directly-excited one,--is not freely produced by moral activity, and is
consequently not yet a moral love, though it indeed conducts to moral
activity and thereby to a transformation of itself into moral love. If
now this first ante-moral love of man for God and his work were the
sole love really existing in man, then evidently the action answering
to it, and hence also to the will of God, would flow out of it so
immediately and necessarily that the possibility of a contrary
self-determination would be scarcely conceivable, so that though indeed
moral freedom in general would not be thereby destroyed, yet liberty of
choice would actually and essentially be precluded. Man would not stand
in free self-determination between the choice of the good and the evil,
but he would be overpoweringly driven by an inner potent impulse to a
choice of the good. Now, though this would in fact render conceivable
an absolutely sinless development, still it would render all the more
inconceivable the possibility of a determination to the sinful.
But the matter assumes a very different aspect when we take into
account the equally natural and immediate ante-moral impulse of
self-love. This must, in fact, also be regarded as ante-moral, for the
reason that it is the involuntary natural expression of soul-life in
general, and hence exists also unconsciously among brutes. The fact
that with man it is conscious, and constitutes a phase of rational
self-consciousness, does not make it per se moral, but simply renders
it capable of being formed into a moral quality. While now in the case
of the brute the unconscious self-love can never become really evil,
the self-love of man is, by virtue of the higher independence of the
free spirit, only in a possible harmony with the love to God and the
universe, but should come into real harmony therewith. Self-love is per
se good,--is by no means the same as self-seeking or selfishness;
Christ himself represents self-love as morally right, and as the
measure for our love to our neighbor [Matt. xxii, 39; Luke x, 27; comp.
Rom. xiii, 9; Gal. v, 14; James ii, 8; Eph. v, 28, 29, 33; 1 Sam.
xviii, 1, 3]; but the goodness of this love consists not in an
antecedently-established harmony with the love to God and the world,
but simply in its liberty to confirm this harmony spontaneously. The
love of God and the love of self are both equally primitive, and are
per se not in antagonism with each other in the least, but yet they are
different from each other and relatively independent of each other. In
this mutual independence of these two forms of love there is afforded
opportunity for the freedom of human choice. Man is called freely to
confirm the harmony of his self-love and his divine love, and that too
not by suppressing the one or the other, nor by making his love of God
dependent on his self-love, but in fact by making his self-love
dependent on his love of God,--by freely subordinating it thereto. As
soon as the divine command was given to him, man was at once conscious
that there was a difference between his self-love and his love to God,
but also, at the same time, that it was his duty to develop this
difference, not into antagonism but into harmony. The one (logically)
possible mis-choice, of suppressing the per se legitimate self-love by
disproportionate exaltation of the love to God, was impossible in fact,
inasmuch as the love to God necessarily involves in itself all possible
good, and hence also the proper love of self, for God preserves that
which He himself has willed; so that consequently there remained
possible only the other mis-choice (which was therefore morally
forbidden), namely, of subordinating the love of God to self-love,
instead of preserving the latter in its true character through its
proper subordination to the former. If simply the love of God had been
primitive in man, then a choice of the ungodly would have been
impossible; if simply self-love had been primitive in him, then a
choice of the good, of submission to the divine will, would have been
equally impossible, and man would have been in the one case
irresponsible for the good, and in the other for the evil--without
desert and without guilt. But by virtue of the fact that the love to
God and the love of self are alike primitive, as the ante-moral germ of
the moral, it follows that man is fully responsible for the
confirmation or the disturbance of the harmony of this twofold love;
for this determination was not already involved in the constitution of
man, but was proposed as a moral task to his free will. The mere love
to God would have made man good but not free, the mere self-love would
have made him seemingly free but not good; the twofold love made him
free for choosing the good, but also free for the possible choice of
the evil,--which, under these circumstances, assumed, in consequence of
the equally real original love to God, the form of infidelity to God,
of a punishable sin. The case is quite similar with the moral culture
of the child. The child, as soon as self-conscious, has love for its
mother, and also a per se strictly legitimate love for play; when the
will of the mother calls the child from its play, it becomes conscious
of the difference of the two forms of love; it knows also that it can
prefer its love for play, and leave the will of the mother unheeded. It
must by a morally-free choice, make a decision,--must subordinate the
one love to the other; if it chooses obedience, then in thus choosing,
and thus only, it feels itself truly free. If there had been no
difference of a twofold love, the child would have had no choice; it
would have just as unfreely, and without a consciousness of the good or
a right to praise, followed its mother, as, on the other supposition,
it would have unfreely and without a consciousness of the evil or a
desert of blame, preferred its play. It is only such cases of choice,
of moral self-determination, that bring the child's morality to
development and to maturity.--It would be very erroneous to consider
self-love as per se evil, and as a natural germ of the evil; the fact
is, it simply offers-not per se, however, but in its normal difference
from the love to God--the possibility of evil, but equally so also the
possibility of moral good in general. It is only in the
consciously-wrought free subordination of self-love to the divine love,
that the latter as well as the former becomes moral. There can be no
question of a "must" in the determination, whether in the one direction
or in the other, but only of a "should" and a "should not."
SECTION XCIII.
The primitive love of man to God and his works becomes moral only,
when, with consciousness and free recognition, it is confirmed by the
self-loving spirit, and when the love to God is made to control the
love of self, that is, when this twofold love becomes a striving of the
self-love to put itself into harmony with all love, through free
self-subordination to the love for God. Love as moral, and as
consciously striving toward its object, becomes disposition. Hence for
all further development of the moral life, a moral disposition is the
necessary antecedent condition; and it is such in its twofold form, as
the affirming disposition of love, and, with reference to evil, as the
negating disposition of hatred. It is only as disposition, but not as
ante-moral natural lobe, that love is an object of the divine law, a
moral requirement, whereas the ante-moral love is simply an element of
the good that is conferred in creation itself. Hence, as moral motive,
love is also the basis of the moral in the fullest sense of the word,
the life-inspiring germ of all other moral activity.
By the fact that love becomes a moral duty, it does not cease to be a
moral motive. Man, as, awakened to moral consciousness, is to have no
other motive of his moral activity than one which he has himself
morally constituted,--not a merely natural ante-moral love, but love as
a disposition. Many are led to deny that love is at all an object of
the divine law, from the simple fact that they reduce it to a mere
involuntary feeling. Also Rothe affirms that we cannot command to love,
but only to learn to love. This is very nearly a distinction without a
difference; for if we can command to learn, and this learning has a
necessary result, then evidently in commanding the learning we also
command the result. The notion that man is per se, and irrespective of
his moral depravity, not master of his own heart,--that he cannot
dominate his proclivities. his love or his repugnance,--simply destroys
his moral responsibility. If man cannot control his love and his
hatred, and bring about in himself moral love, but must allow himself
to be ruled by blind inclinations, then is he no longer a moral
creature, but simply a dangerous sort of animal. If marriages are
contracted only from "irresistible inclination" and dissolved because
of "irresistible aversion," then they lie outside of the sphere of
morality. Christian morality does not indeed require that marriages
shall continue to exist despite the pretended "irresistible aversion;"
on the contrary, it denies fundamentally that the notion of such an
ungovernable aversion is to be admitted, inasmuch as it makes man
morally responsible for his love and his hatred. It would not only be a
monstrous but also an absurd theory of morals which should admit, on
the one hand, that we are not at all master of our love and our
aversion,--that love cannot be commanded as a duty,--and yet, on the
other hand, should require that man should not act according to his
love or aversion, but according to requirements of the moral law that
have no connection therewith; he who has not love cannot practice love
without hypocrisy; but that he has it not is his own fault. Christian
ethics requires not to proclaim love in our deeds where there is no
love, for it cannot require falseness; but it requires us to have love
for all, and, for that reason also to practice it. The Scriptures
declare unequivocally that love, the motive of all moral action, is
also a duty commanded by the moral law; the law "Thou shalt love thy
neighbor as thyself" [Lev. xix, 18; Matt, xxii, 39; Mark xii, 31] is
called a "royal law," that is, a law that dominates all others [James
ii, 8; comp. Gal. v, 14; Col, iii, 14; 1 Tim. i, 5; 1 John iii, 11
sqq.; iv, 7 sqq.].
SECTION XCIV.
As morality is the free fulfilling of the divine will, hence moral love
is primarily always love to God, and the love to created things is
moral only in so far as it springs from the love to God,--considers
created things as the work of God, and loves them in him. The
God-consciousness, as developed into a moral love of God, is piety
(eusebeia); hence all morality rests on piety. All non-pious love is
immoral, and hence also all love to the creature as such, taken in
itself without connection and interpenetration with the divine love.
But all love to God rests on our consciousness of God's love to us;
love is produced only by love; all moral love is, in its essence,
reciprocal love; a non-loving creature can be loved only in so far as
God's love is reflected to us from it; and for this very reason moral
love to persons seeks indeed their love in return, but does not need
it.
As rational thought finds the unity of its thought-world only in the
thought of God, so also moral love finds its rest and its unity only in
love to God; it is not content with the semblance thereof but only with
the truth; and all things have their truth only in their relation to
God. As that love is higher, truer, and mightier which loves, in a
person, not merely the earthly but also the soul, so is that love
higher, truer, and mightier which loves in man, not merely the creature
but also the image of God, and, through it, God himself. Love is the
more genuine the higher its object; he who sees in creatures the trace
of God, and loves God in them, he alone loves with the whole might of
love. The proper love to the creature rests on the consciousness that
"the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof" [1 Cor. x, 26]; this
does not lower the creature in the eyes of the love, but elevates both
its worth and the love for it. Thus also Christ presents the precept of
love to God as "the first and great commandment;" and "the second is
like unto it," that is, it is already implied in it, though it does not
absolutely coincide with it,--it is in fact the reflection of our love
to God back upon our neighbor; our love for our neighbor is erroneous,
when it does not rest upon love to God. Hence Christ says: "He that
loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me" [Matt. x,
37]. To the natural man this sounds hard and severe; but from a
Christian stand-point, nay, even from a religious stand-point in
general, no other view is possible than in fact, that a love for the
creature without the higher divine love, or with one that prevails over
the latter, is sinful. By this relation of all love to the love of God,
this love is preserved also from one-sided narrowness,--clings not, in
irrational caprice, to isolated objects,--but extends itself to all
that is created, though indeed different degrees of such love are
possible, from the fact of the differing peculiarity of the object and
of the loving person.
This true mutual relation of our love to the creature and our love to
God, appears still more striking when we attentively consider the
relation of human love to the divine love. As human thinking is only a
reflection of the divine thought, so also is human love only a
reflection of the divine love. All that is true and good in the copy is
enkindled by the true and the good of the prototype; "He that loveth
not knoweth not God, for God is love" [1 John iv, 8]. Man could not
love God, and hence could not love morally at all, were he not loved of
God. God's love is a love of grace; man's love is a love of
gratitude,--the answering love of a child. Love cannot love any thing
else but love [Psa. ciii, 1 sqq.; Col. iii, 17; 1 Thess. v, 18; 1 John
iv, 11, 19]. For this reason there is no pain so great as where love
remains unrequited. But to the pious heart it is not unrequited; such a
heart finds the love which it seeks; Christ says: whatsoever "ye have
done unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto
me;" and where, against the loving one, the heart of man coldly closes
itself, there the love of God comes in its place.
SECTION XCV.
While our love to created things is either simply a love to the
inferior, or to the equal, or to the merely relatively higher, and
hence always meets its object with a consciousness of its own
independent power and of an individual personal right, our love to God
is, as directed to One that is absolutely superior to all that is
human, always associated with a consciousness of our own impotency as
in contrast to the infinite holy power of the Beloved, and hence is a
love of fear. Love to God is essentially God-fearing; there is,
however, no moral fear of God without also love to God. Mere fear alone
is not a moral motive, for only love is this.
In all love to a created object our moral action is complementive and
promotive of the being and life of the same; we render to it in our
love a real service, and obtain for ourselves a claim upon its
grateful, answering love. But God's being and life cannot be
complemented and heightened by our love; we cannot render to him a real
service for which he would be under obligation to us [Job xli, 2; Rom.
xi, 35]. Our love to God consists only with the consciousness that we
receive every thing from God, and God nothing from us,--that our entire
being and life stand absolutely in his power. Such a consciousness
includes necessarily the feeling of fear--not fear of a mere power
operating without reference to moral action, but of a righteous God who
opposes all that is unholy; and in this sense Christ himself makes a
regard for the penal judgments of God a motive for moral action [Matt.
v, 22, 25 sqq.; xxv, 45, 46]. Fear of God in the absence of love is, in
fact, by no means irrational; rather is it, wherever such love is
lacking, the natural expression of the antagonism between the unholy
nature of the person and the holy God, but such fear is not a moral
motive. It presupposes the antagonism which the moral denies; and it
cannot do away with it, for it is love alone that harmonizes. That
nevertheless this slavish fear is of moral significancy for the state
of sinfulness, we shall subsequently see. For the unfallen state, mere
fear has neither reason nor possibility, for mere fear is, in its
essence, hatred,--hatred against the more powerful being with whom we
are not united by love.
Mere love, however, without fear, as toward God, is not truthful, for
that would be only a love of familiarity as with our equal. He who is
conscious of his moral freedom, must also be conscious, as often as he
makes use of this moral freedom, that God opposes his holy power to its
misuse. The feeling which springs out of such a consciousness is not
contrary to love, nor is it yet love itself, but it is genuine moral
fear. Hence this moral awe of God, the true reverence for God, is the
beginning of all wisdom and the condition of all morality [Deut. v, 29;
vi, 2; x, 20; Prov. i, 7; viii, 13; ix, 10; xv, 33; xvi, 6; Psa. cxi,
10; cxii, 7; Job xxviii, 28; 2 Cor. vii, 1]. Only those who fear the
Lord trust in the Lord [Psa. cxv, 11]; for only the holy God gives
surety for his love and truthfulness; not to fear God involves being
godless [Prov. i, 29; Rom. iii, 18], and piety is synonymous with the
fear of God (phobos Theou) [Acts ix, 13; Eph. v, 21; 2 Cor. vii, 1].
The reference is not to this pious dread of the holy God, but to that
mere servile fear which is at bottom hatred, when St. John says: "There
is no fear in love, but perfect love casteth out fear; because fear
hath torment (kolasin echei, is a feeling of estrangement from God, of
unblessedness); he that feareth is not made perfect in love" [1 John
iv, 18]. The true fear of God is closely allied to the love of God
[Deut. x, 12].
SECTION XCVI.
Where the love to God is true God-fearing, there it is also a firm
trusting in God. Trusting is the reverse side of this fearing.
Man-fearing is devoid of trust; God-fearing is per se also
God-trusting. In relation to all that is evil, I fear God, who will
bring it to naught and me with it; in relation to all that is good, I
trust God, who will not permit me to come to naught, but will
gloriously accomplish that which I begin in his name. God-fearing love
is full of confidence in the results of its moral strivings; because it
fears God, it has no reason to fear any power that is hostile to God.
Certain of its victory, and certain that it works in God and for God,
and hence that it accomplishes divine and imperishable work, it becomes
enthusiasm, which is the highest and truest moral motive, and the only
sufficient power where there is involved a moral working for general
interests that transcend all temporal individual interests,--where the
temporal happiness of the person must be sacrificed to a moral
principle,--which, however, is conceivable only where sin is dominant.
Trusting in God is faith, love, and hope at the same time; primarily,
however, it is not a result of moral self-culture. but it is simply the
germ of that threefold life that is antecedent to all actual moral
life. As the awakening consciousness of the child expresses itself in
an, as yet, obscure trust to its mother, so is it with man's first
life-relation to God. Man attains a trust not simply through faith and
through love, but faith and love are per se, and of necessity, trust
already; and hence trust is a necessary antecedent condition of all
moral life. Trust relates to the idea of an end; the mere desire of an
end is not a sufficient motive to inspire moral effort toward it; it
may be a hopeless, and hence an inactive, desire; doubting Peter sinks
in the waves; it is only an unshaken trust that confirms courage and
awakens strength [Psa. xviii, 31 sqq.; xxvii, 14; xxxiv, 9; xxxvii, 3
sqq.; lxii, 6 sqq.; lxxxiv, 13; Prov. xvi, 20, and elsewhere].--There
is no enthusiasm for evil,--at furthest only a Satanic pleasure in
evil, but this pleasure is attended with fear and malice, but not
enthusiasm. Man as sinful may err as to what is good or evil, and he
may therefore have enthusiasm for a folly, but only from the fact that
he takes it for something good and noble. Nor can the merely individual
and temporal awaken enthusiasm; nothing but the ideal can do
this,--that which is, or is conceived of as, absolutely valid, as
eternal truth, and hence of divine significancy, in a word that in the
victory and permanent endurance of which the person has entire
confidence. For that which is merely individual or useful I may indeed
have energy or passion, but not enthusiasm. Only the absolutely good,
the divine, is free from all doubt. Doubt is death to enthusiasm;
without faith it is not possible morally to battle for the divine.
Without enthusiasm there can be but a cold, calculating working for
temporal ends, but no effort for the divine and eternal; hence whatever
is not of faith is sin, for it is non-moral, whereas man ought
constantly to be moral. The apostles had indeed, during Christ's
earthly life, a warm love for their Master, so that they were ready
even to die with him [John xi, 16], but they had enthusiasm only after
the pouring out of the Holy Ghost.
SECTION XCVII.
As love springs from the consciousness of the harmony of the person
with his object, and as the feeling of such a harmony is the feeling of
happiness, hence all love is per se also happiness, and its striving is
necessarily a striving for happiness. As, however, love does not seek
its own, but finds its bliss alone in that of the beloved, it is clear
that this striving for happiness, as based on moral love, is in nowise
self-seeking and narrow-hearted, but, on the contrary, a proper motive
of moral activity,--only, however, in so far as it is in unison with
the right love, and does not appear as something different from
it,--not as the first and fundamental element, but only as a derived
one; but it becomes an immoral motive in so far as it is an expression
of mere self love (Eudemonism).--The tendency to the good, which is
produced by moral activity, becomes in turn itself a higher motive to
the moral.
The question as to the morality of happiness-seeking as a moral motive,
cannot be answered without a more definite characterization. The
"eudemonistic" view proper, that of the Epicureans, is evidently
immoral, as it rests on mere self-love. Heathen ethics could oppose to
this self-seeking happiness-principle nothing other than the notion
that virtue should be sought after for its own sake. If there was here
a seeming subordinating of the person to a general moral idea, still,
because of the inner untruthfulness of the position, it could not
possibly be otherwise than that in fact, even in the strictest
Stoicism, the mere proud self-consciousness of the individual should
be, after all, the influencing motive proper. The thought of love as
the true moral motive was entirely wanting to heathen ethics,--is
peculiar to Christianity. The Christian idea of love harmonizes the
legitimate self-love with submission to the moral law. In loving God,
man loves also himself as a child of God, and in fulfilling his duty he
at the same time realizes his happiness. The love to God and to His
creatures is, on the one hand, a feeling of happiness, and, on the
other, a motive to moral activity. The old controversy about the
happiness-principle, which has in recent times been revived, especially
by the school of Kant, receives its proper solution only in the
Christian view, namely, in that, while Christianity recognizes in the
proper seeking for happiness a strictly moral motive, it also exalts
the character of this seeking by the love in which alone it bases it.
It is therefore a very one-sided illiberality in Rationalists to
reproach Old Testament ethics with "Eudemonism." It is true, the Old
Testament recognizes the seeking after happiness as a proper motive in
the fulfilling of the law: "That it may go well with thee and with thy
children after thee, and that thou mayest prolong thy days upon the
earth" [Deut. iv, 40; Exod. xx, 12; Deut. v, 16; xxix, 33; Psa. xxxvii,
37; cxxii, 6, etc.]; the formula "Blessed is he that," etc., [Psa. i,
1; ii, 12; xxxiv, 8; xl, 4, etc.] and other similar ones, are very
frequently given as an encouragement to moral obedience; but also
Christ himself and the apostles expressly present such a motive: "Do
this and thou shalt live" [Luke x, 28; comp. Matt. xix, 16, 17, 28, 29;
vi, 19, 20; Mark x, 21; Luke xii, 33; John iii, 36; Eph. vi, 3; Rom.
ii, 7; 1 Tim. iv, 88; vi, 19]; the "crown" of life is promised as a
reward to fidelity [1 Cor. ix, 25; 2 Tim. iv, 8; 1 Peter v, 4; James i,
12; Rev. ii, 10]; but neither the Old nor the New Testament separate
this striving for happiness from the love to God and our neighbor in
which, in fact, both Covenants find the true motive to moral action.
There is, in reality, no essential antagonism between love and the
striving after happiness; but the latter is directly implied in the
former, and is, in the nature of the case, inseparable from it.
Christianity knows no other happiness than love to God in the
consciousness of being loved by him.
All moral activity has necessarily a permanent result in the person
himself; it makes the moral his possession and property,--forms more
and more his moral character, and hence creates a tendency to, and a
readiness in, moral acting. I his moral possession, as a result of
moral activity--virtue--becomes in turn itself, as an active power, a
motive force to moral life, so that by his moral activity man
constantly increases the actuating power of the same. Of this readiness
or skill in moral acting we will have occasion to speak hereafter; we
merely remark here, that by virtue of acting morally the originally as
yet undetermined freedom of choice receives a determined
character,--takes up into itself the morally good as such. The moral
develops itself into a constantly increasing power,--renews itself on a
progressively larger scale in the organic circulation of life. The good
becomes to the moral man, as it were, a second nature, which, in turn,
works out of itself by virtue of its own power; it is no longer simply
something objective to him, nor merely a natural quality conferred upon
him, but it is a vital possession, and hence an actuating power within
him.
CHAPTER V.
THE MORAL ACTIVITY.
SECTION XCVIII.
LOVE works the accomplishment of the lovingly-willed end; the moral
motive and the accomplishing of the end belong, therefore, morally,
inseparably together. The moral element lies neither exclusively in the
motive, nor exclusively in the action; neither exclusively in the
intention or end, nor exclusively in the means to the end, but in the
unity of both. A good end does not sanctify the means, nor do good
means sanctify the end, but a good end is accomplished morally only by
good means; all end which actually can be realized by immoral means, is
itself immoral.
As the moral is a free realizing of a rational end, the question
naturally rises, wherein the moral element properly lies, namely,
whether in the end and in the motive? or in the means to the end, that
is, in the acts that lead to the realization of the end? or whether in
both at the same time,--that is, whether we are to judge of an act
exclusively from the intention, or exclusively from the action itself,
or in fact from both together? The first of these queries has been
answered affirmatively by the Jesuits--though this is not peculiar to
them, but is involved more or less in all perverted moralizing,
especially in that of worldly society at large; outside of the sphere
of Christian earnestness there prevails every-where in fact a tendency
to distinguish between the morality of the end and that of the means.
From the very idea of the moral it follows necessarily that the
conscious end, and hence the intention, occupies with good right the
chief place in determining the moral judgment, and that consequently
only that action can be good which aims at a good end--one in harmony
with the moral order of the world. Whatever accomplishes such an end
must consequently be in harmony with the moral order of the world, and
hence be itself good; when therefore the axiom: "The end sanctifies the
means" is understood to mean "that the means which answer to a really
good end are necessarily also good," then it is entirely
unobjectionable; it becomes false only when either the end is only
seemingly good, or the means only seemingly appropriate, or where it is
assumed that the means, that is, the actions, are per se morally
indifferent, and receive a moral character only from the intention. As,
however, all free action falls within the sphere of the moral order of
the world, and as the reality that is produced by this action is either
in harmony or in disharmony with this order, hence also the action, per
se and irrespectively of its end, is either good or bad,--though
indeed, in order to its full moral appreciation, its end also must be
taken into the account. He who sets a house on fire from negligence may
have had no evil intention, but he is punished nevertheless, and justly
so, for his action was per se evil, and might have been avoided by him.
If we suppose instead of an absolutely good end, that is, such a one as
is a part of the highest good, simply particular ends, the goodness of
which consists only in their subordination to the order of the whole,
then the axiom: "The end sanctifies the means," is false, in so far as
the end or means do not consist with the order of the whole. He who
burns down a house in order to drive the rats out of it attains indeed
his end, but at the same time he destroys the super-ordinate end of the
house. The question becomes difficult only when bearing upon moral
action in a sinful world, in which evil, and hence the infliction of
evils for punishment, for discipline and defense, has a legitimate
place. But of this we can only speak further on.
Moral action, as flowing from love, may be considered from two points
of view: first, in itself, according to its inner differences, that is,
moral action as such; secondly, in relation to the different moral
objects in virtue of the differences of which the moral action itself
assumes a different form.
SUBDIVISION FIRST.
THE MORAL ACTIVITY PER SE IN ITS INNER DIFFERENCES.
SECTION XCIX.
As moral action always seeks to effect a harmony between the acting
person and the moral object, hence it stands in relation, on the one
hand, to the former as its starting-point, and, on the other, to the
latter as the goal aimed at by the life-movement. This harmony can
consequently be effected in a twofold manner,--either in that the
object becomes for the subject, or the subject for the object, that is,
either by appropriation or by formation. As, however, every entity, in
so far as it is good, has a right in and of itself, hence it has such a
right also as bearing upon the morally active person, so that neither
the appropriating nor the forming is without some degree of limitation,
but both must respect this right of the object. The two forms of moral
action have therefore, as a necessary limit, a third form of moral
bearing, namely, a bearing by which the moral object is preserved in
its rights,--moral sparing.
This third form of the moral bearing, which, as an activity of the
will, has of course a moral character, has been very largely ignored in
ethics, or at least left in the back-ground, and it is even severely
criticised in its defenders, and yet it is a sphere of very essential
duties, duties which can be classed into other spheres only by manifest
violence, and which yet consist, in fact, neither in appropriation nor
in formation. When I check my foot in order not wantonly to crush an
ant that is crossing my path, this is in fact a moral self-limitation,
but it cannot be properly classed as moral forming, seeing that the end
of this action is very evidently the to-be-spared animal, and not the
acting person. But every moral action without exception is also a moral
self-forming, a self-cultivating, without, however, that this
self-culture should always appear as the end proper. Without the proper
respecting of the duty of sparing, appropriation and formation would
become violence. But the moral motive of all right action, namely,
love, implies in its very nature also the exercising of preservative
sparing; man cannot love an object, and yet not seek to preserve it in
the beloved peculiarity of its being. Sparing is not of a mere negative
character, a mere limiting of another action, but it is essentially
different from all other action; it is of a negative character only in
form but not in contents. When I do not severely reproach a person who
is inwardly and deeply ashamed and humiliated because of his sin, but
tenderly spare him, this is not a mere non-doing of that which I might
do, not a mere limiting of my punitive activity, but it is the very
opposite of this. There results here from the moral motive, that is,
love, not a positive acting upon the other, but a restraining of such
action; and if I thereby heap coals of fire upon the head of an enemy,
and thus profit him morally, still this is not a real influential
forming on my part, but a giving place for the moral self-forming of
the other; my sparing procedure here is indeed mediately a forming, as,
on the other hand, it is also a self-mastering; per se however, it is
an action different from both. When, in the sphere of the freedom of
rational creatures, God restrains his immediate action in order to
preserve them in their freedom,--when God spared Cain, and, after the
flood, promised henceforth to spare living creatures as a whole [Gen.
iv, 15; viii, 21; ix, 11 sqq.],--this is simply a divine example of
moral sparing. To spare is often more difficult morally than to
appropriate or to influence, for in the latter cases the person has a
lively consciousness of self, and stands forth prominently with his own
rights and his enjoyment of activity; but, in sparing, it is the right
of the object that stands in the foreground, and the actor must
recognize and respect this right, and must morally overcome his
personal will and his pleasure in self-assertion. Sparing is the
preservative, the "conservative," phase of the moral life, and its
carrying-out presupposes greater moral maturity than the exercise of
the appropriating or forming activities; for the youthful zeal of the
morally immature spirit, its practice is exceedingly difficult; not to
crush the bruised reed, nor to quench the smoking wick [Matt. xii, 20],
is more difficult, and involves a higher moral wisdom, than to destroy
or to create anew.--As the sparing procedure is logically the most
immediate course of conduct, and rather a withholding than an express
acting, hence it is more appropriate to treat of it first.
I. MORAL SPARING.
SECTION C.
Moral sparing is a self-limiting of personal action in the interest of
the rights of the object; the latter is neither appropriated nor formed
by the person, but simply let alone in its peculiar being and nature.
The duty of sparing rests upon the right of every natural or spiritual
and historical entity to its existence and its peculiarity, in so far
as these are good, and hence upon love to the object as being
good,--consequently, in the final instance, upon a pious world theory,
upon love to God. The entity is spared because it bears in itself the
impress of the Eternal,--is an expression of the will of God; hence
sparing is moral only in so far as it relates to the good and the
divine ill existence, and not to that which by virtue of its ungodly
nature should be an object of moral hatred.--The higher the perfection
of an object, so much the higher is also its right to moral sparing;
the less the perfection, the more the object falls within the sphere of
appropriation and formation. The highest object of moral sparing among
created things is man, and whatever exists through and for him; but,
above all, his moral personality itself, and hence also his honor. God
himself cannot indeed be an object of moral sparing in the strict sense
of the word, but lie is such, however, in the forms of his revelation
in time, and in all that symbolically represents him.
An indiscriminate sparing would be simply spiritual and moral sloth or
indifference, and hence immoral. The sparing of the anti-godly is a
sinning against God, is the withholding of moral love. An evil
existence has indeed also, in so far as any good still inheres in it, a
right to be spared,--only, however, in that which it has of good. The
right to be spared is not, of course, in the case of finite existences,
of an unlimited and unconditional character, and in the case of
nature-objects it is much more limited than with personal beings,
though indeed it never sinks entirely to zero. It is true, nature is
destined to service under the dominion of the rational spirit, and, in
so far as it reaches this destination, man has in fact a right to pass
beyond the limits of mere sparing restraint, and actively to lay hold
on the very existence of nature, transforming and appropriating it.
Where the right of the personal spirit is not recognized, where God is
conceived of as a mere nature-entity, there pious morality manifests
itself in a wide-reaching sparing of natural objects, far beyond the
measure of what is required of us; so is it with the Brahmins and the
Buddhists; and, especially in the case of the former, this
over-delicate sparing of natural objects is associated with a cruel
un-sparingness toward themselves.
As the duty of sparing rests on the right of each particular being to
its own peculiarity, hence this duty as well as this right rise in
scope in proportion to the degree of the individual perfection. That
which is absolutely perfect bears the character of eternity and
unchangeableness, and though it may indeed be spiritually appropriated,
yet it cannot in any respect be formed or changed. In the process of
education, the dictating influence upon the child falls into the
background in proportion as the child grows toward moral maturity.
Lifeless matter has no claim to sparing. When the Brahmin does not
allow himself causelessly to crush the least earth-clod, this is simply
because he regards it as the sacred body of Brahma. Plants have a
better claim to be spared than inorganic objects, and the more so the
higher their organization, and especially as they stand in a closer
relation to man; to injure fruit-trees and other edible vegetation,
without cause, is regarded as sinful even by uncultured tribes. The
more an object enters into the sphere of man's spiritual life, the more
it bears the impress of the spirit, constituting, as it were, a sort of
larger corporeality for man, so much the higher is its claim upon
sparing. This is especially the case with the human body itself, as the
organ of the spirit, as a "temple of the Holy Ghost;" in the next rank
stand all such natural objects as hold a relation to the spiritual
life, and which are mementos of important events and of spiritual
effort in general,--every thing, in fine, that has been actually
produced by the human spirit, and the more so in proportion as it is of
a spiritualized character,--and hence, especially, all products of
industry and art. But the highest right to sparing is possessed by the
personal spirit itself in its personal peculiarity; to assail the honor
of another is to wound his moral being; the higher the moral culture
and maturity of a person, the higher is also his right to moral
sparing; by sin this right is necessarily largely forfeited.
While the heathen idol falls, of course, within the sphere of human
sparing, the eternal and almighty God stands beyond the scope of this
activity. Nevertheless there are sacred duties which express, in a
certain sense, a sparing of the divine; the name of God and his honor
are to be held sacred; and whatever is a symbol of the divine, or is a
reminder of God's presence, has an especial claim to moral sparing;
even uncultured tribes practice a reverential sparing in regard to all
that is sacred or stands in relation to the divine in contradistinction
to the worldly and the profane. From the simple fact of the sparing of
whatever stands in real, or even in symbolical, relation to God, it is
very evident, of how great significancy is piety for morality. The
pious mind finds God's being and providence in all things and in all
life, and whatever is not hostile to God is, for it, sacred and an
object of pious sparing. The higher the piety of the person, so much
the higher becomes the worth, and hence also the right, of all
existence, in so far as this existence is good. He who is impious has
no reverence for created things,--no tenderness toward them. Not to
spare that which has a right to sparing, is moral rudeness. The immoral
and the impious are uniformly rude and coarse; they have indeed fear
but no awe.
Sparing is, as a non-doing, only then moral when it is a conscious and
freely-willed withholding of a real out-going action, that is, when it
is an inner activity, a moral self-controlling out of respect for
another's right, and when it is in real harmony with moral forming and
appropriating, so as not in any manner to interfere therewith,--that
is, when it is the virtualizing of the real rights of the moral object.
The formable or cultivable object has, however, just as good a right to
be formed as it has to be spared. In so far as sparing is a mere
non-influencing of the objective entity, it is not yet moral, and may
even also be evil. The spiritually indolent declines even this form of
activity, not, however, from love to the object, but from mere
selfishness. Only that sparing is morally good which rests on love to
the object, and which therefore implies a conscious self-limitation and
self-controlling, and which is, consequently, only in outer form, but
not in inner essence, a mere non-doing; mere non-doing would be per se
sinful, inasmuch as the moral life must always be active, and it is
only the seeming non-doing which, however, is an inner-doing, that can
be moral. True moral sparing is, in relation to beings that are.
formable and in need of formation, uniformly also a formative
influence, namely, in that it gives proper play for legitimate
self-forming on the part of the object. A tyrannical education that
extends its tutorial dictation into all the minute details, produces
not a moral character but only servile-mindedness. All right education
must also practice, in the interest of the training of moral freedom, a
wise sparing,--must allow the child the possibility of determining
itself independently, and of thereby maturing itself toward moral
freedom. As the sparing of a growing plant is at the same time also a
furthering of it, so also, and even in a higher degree, is this true of
sparing as exercised toward rational beings; the pardoning of an
offense exercises frequently a very fruitful influence on the moral
development of him who is pardoned.
II. MORAL APPROPRIATING.
SECTION CI.
In the appropriating activity man effects his unity with the objective
entity, by taking it up into himself,--by uniting it with himself, by
making it an element of his own nature. This moral activity differs
both in regard to what element of the object is appropriated by the
actor, and in regard to how this takes place.
(a) According to what element of the object is appropriated, the
appropriating is either natural or spiritual; the latter is the more
comprehensive, and extends itself to all objective existence,--also to
God.--Natural appropriation relates as well to the existence and
preservation of the individual person as to the existence and
preservation of the species, and is the necessary condition of both. In
both respects, therefore, man is bound to nature and stimulated by
natural instinct, and although in this respect he is freer than the
brute, and all the freer the higher his personality is developed,
nevertheless in respect to the preservation of the existence of the
subject, this freedom is still always of a limited character, and the
law of nature is, in many respects, stronger than the will, though,
however, not so potent as to force the will to the immoral.
All natural existence is at the same time also of spiritual
significance,--is a realized thought, the expression of an idea. But
as, on the other hand, not every spiritual entity is connected with a
natural one, hence spiritual appropriating is of greater compass and
higher significancy than the merely natural. The higher moral worth of
the former appears also from this, that it preserves the objective
existence in its reality, whereas natural appropriation more or less
destroys it. With the increase of moral and spiritual growth, natural
appropriation constantly gives place more and more to the spiritual;
with the child the former predominates; but what is normal in the child
becomes immoral in mature age.
In natural appropriation there is manifested a real and normal
limitation of free self-determination. When hunger predominates, the
spiritual forces subside, and at last it becomes even mightier than the
free determinations of the will. Nevertheless this power of nature over
the will is neither unlimited nor absolutely definitive, but the moral
will is capable of asserting its autonomy against it. It may indeed
enfeeble the bodily force and therewith also the spiritual, but it
cannot absolutely determine the will. Christ cried out indeed on the
cross: "I thirst;" but when hungering in the desert he resisted the
temptation. The fact that from grief or despair persons have starved
themselves to death, proves at least that the will is capable of being
stronger than nature, even under its most overpowering phases. He who
in the last desperation of famine lays hold on human life to satiate
his hunger [Lev. xxvi, 29] commits a crime even in the eyes of human
law, and the violence of hunger forms no excuse. That also in this
respect a great difference is to be made between man as unfallen and
man as enslaved to sin, we have already observed.
SECTION CII.
Natural appropriating per se is not yet a moral activity, but it is
extra-moral, and therefore when it appears in and of itself as the
substance and chief-end of life, it is immoral. It becomes morally good
only when it is the expression of an under-lying spiritual
appropriating, that is, when it does not rest on mere sensuous impulse,
but on conscious love, not so much to the sensuous object per se as
rather to God who lovingly gives it to us. This implies further that,
with a moral person, the natural appropriating should never predominate
over the spiritual,--that not the attendant sensuous enjoyment per se
should be regarded as the essential and proper object of effort, but
rather the rational God-willed end of the sensuous, so that
consequently the sensuous enjoyment should be aimed at only in so far
as the moral purpose admits of it.
There is per se forbidden to man, irrespective of his sinfulness, no
natural temperate sensuous appropriating; this is plainly seen in the
account of Paradise and in the example and deed of Christ at the
wedding of Cana. Thankfulness to God sanctifies even the sensuous
appropriation of his gifts [1 Tim. iv, 3-5]. The Christian custom of
saying grace at meals, after the example of Christ [Matt. xiv, 19; xv,
36], which prevailed also generally in the ancient church [Acts xxvii,
35; Tert. Apol., 39], has a high moral significancy; it rescues the
natural enjoyment from the stage of mere sensuousness,--elevates it
into the sphere of the moral. As even in the opinion of worldly society
the significancy of social repasts consists not in the sensuous
enjoyment, but in the intellectual entertainment and interchange of
sentiment, so according to Christian morals the significancy of all
sensuous appropriation consists in its relation to God,--in the
appropriating of the divine in and through the bread and wine of daily
food. "Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all
to the glory of God" [1 Cor. x, 30, 31]. But man does not give God the
glory when he forgets Him and finds pleasure merely in the sensuous.
God neither forbids nor begrudges to man the enjoyment of the sensuous,
but he forbids a beastly merging of one's self into it. He who forgets
the Giver in the gift sinks below the sphere of the moral and even of
the human. The world at large is not fond of grace-saying, and yet even
the heathen made his libations to the gods at his repasts. Even
Schleiermacher (Christl. Sitte, Beil., p. 33) found in the just-cited
words of Paul simply an assumption of the animal
element--food-taking--"into the sphere of social pleasure," "in order
to chasten mere sensuous desire," and he is unable to discover any
significancy in the saying of grace.
The observing of moderation in natural appropriation, the regarding it
as a mere means to the rational end of preserving the individual as
well as the species, is not merely a moral preserving of the person but
also of the object,--is a doing of justice toward the object. He who is
temperate simply, e. g., in order not to injure his health, is not yet
moral, but only self-seeking. Appropriation finds its measure in the
moral duty of sparing. All natural appropriating is more or less a
destroying of the objective entity; and, as the latter has per se a
right to sparing, it follows that the limit of appropriation is not a
merely subjective one. The nightingale-tongue pies of the Roman
epicures are not mentioned with detestation simply because they are a
mere immoderation, but because they involved an injustice against the
right of nature to be spared. And many modern table-luxuries are not of
a much more innocent character.
In sexual appropriation the moral is conditioned not merely, as in the
use of natural objects, on thankful love to God as the giver,
but--inasmuch as the object appropriated is itself a moral
personality--also on personal love to the same. Without this love the
person of the object would be treated as a mere impersonality, as a
mere nature-object, and its validity as a personal moral spirit
ignored. Upon this moral recognition of the personality Scripture lays
great emphasis. "Adam knew Eve, his wife;" the same expression (yd) is
very frequently used of wedlock communion, also on the part of the
woman [Gen. xix, 8; Num. xxxi, 17]. This is usually explained as a mere
euphemism, but it is in fact the appropriate expression to the essence
of the matter. The persons mutually recognize each other as
personalities bound to each other in full reciprocal
possession,--recognize, each, himself in the other and the other in
himself--recognize the complete belonging of each to the other in
virtue of a mutual love which precludes every thing that is strange or
disuniting, so that consequently the two constitute truly one soul and
one flesh. The expression to "know," to recognize, refers therefore
primarily solely to legitimate wedlock cohabitation, and was applied
only subsequently and improperly also to sinful.
Sexual appropriation also is in part a destruction, a despoiling of the
person, which finds a compensation only in the fact that the one person
belongs to the other as an inalienable possession--that both persons
are united to an indissoluble life in common. Hence the commerce of the
sexes without marriage is self-profanation; and virginity is esteemed
among all, not absolutely barbarous nations as an inviolable treasure
to which only that one has a right who is united in his whole
personality to the person of the virgin. And even within the limits of
marriage each party has a right to sparing, and should not be degraded
into a mere object of sensuous pleasure; also here there is a measure
that is conditioned on the end, and the transgressing of which is a
dishonoring, a degrading. of the consort.
SECTION CIII.
2.--Spiritual appropriation relates to all objective existence, nature
included, and takes up the spiritual contents thereof into the being of
the self-conscious subject,--makes it its personal possession. The
moral subject enlarges thus its own spiritual being,--receives the
universe as well as God into itself,--forms for itself an inner world
which, as a copy of the real world, realizes under its subjective phase
the moral end, namely, the effecting of the harmony of existence.
In spiritual appropriation, as the far richer field of this activity,
the appropriated object is in no wise destroyed, but on the contrary
preserved, nay, brought to its higher truth, namely, in that its
spiritual contents not only exist per se, but also exist for the
spirit, and have now in the spirit a continued existence even after the
object itself outwardly perishes. That which has become a part of
history and science has thereby attained to imperishableness. That
which externally perishes, the natural existence, is the inferior, the
less essential; that which is capable of becoming a possession of the
immortal spirit is, in fact, the higher,--the essence, the idea, the
spiritual contents of existence. In virtue of their spiritual contents
even natural objects receive a sort of immortality by being
appropriated by the rational spirit; in a still higher degree is this
true of the facts of history. Spiritual appropriation is related to
natural appropriation as the spirit to the body; the latter must
therefore always be subordinate to the former,--must absolutely serve
it.--As all nature is created not only by spirit but also for spirit,
and as whatever is spiritually created is likewise for the spirit,
hence it is but justice to both natural and historical existence,--but
a simple right of the same upon the rational spirit,--that it be
appropriated by the latter, and it is a perfectly moral requirement
that spiritual appropriating be made an essential part of the moral
activity. Only savages know nothing of history, of the permanent
preservation of the transitory. The preservation of that which belongs
to the spirit, that which has been appropriated by it, is the earliest
evidence of the spiritual, the historical character of a people,--of
human culture. The most ancient historical nations of heathendom, the
Chinese and the Egyptians, place their chief interest in the preserving
of transpired events; the Egyptians sought to rescue from perishing
even the bodies of men, as the tabernacles of the spirit,--sought to
appropriate them to history. The art of writing has as its original
purpose, not mutual personal intercourse, but history,--was committed
not to perishable leaves but to the rock; and also the most ancient
products of architectural skill were consecrated, not to purposes of
dwellings, but to purposes of history.
SECTION CIV.
(b) The difference of spiritual appropriation in respect to how it
takes place, appears, on the one hand, in this, that the appropriating
person is active as a rational spirit in general,--as at one with all
other rational spirits, and hence in such a manner as that the
appropriation might be made in like manner by any other
spirit,--general appropriation; and, on the other, in this, that the
person is active as a single personality for himself,--appropriates the
object to himself as an individual, makes it his exclusive
possession,--particular appropriation.--(1) General (universal)
appropriation is cognizing or learning. The object is indeed received
by the individual spirit and into it, not, however, as its exclusive
possession; on the contrary, in this receiving, the person divests
himself at the same time of his isolated character,--has the
appropriated not as a mere particular possession for himself, but as a
possession of the rational spirit in general,--as universally-valid.
The so appropriated spiritual possession is truth; now truth has the
destination and tendency to become a common possession. Learning or
cognizing is therefore moral: (a) in that it seeks to appropriate to
itself the real spiritual contents of existence, that is, seeks after
truth; (b) in that it makes of truth, not a personal isolated
enjoyment, but strives to communicate it to others.
All learning is spiritual appropriating, but not all spiritual
appropriating is general; we here consider spiritual appropriation
under another phase than in the preceding section. Where the love of
sensuous enjoyment prevails to a sinful extent, there the love of truth
declines. The desire of knowledge is a characteristic of the moral
spirit. Man, as called to dominion over nature, is also called to the
spiritual appropriating of the same, and of all existence. The striving
after truth is a seal of man's God-likeness. Even as to God every thing
is open, and all truth is known, so also is man only then truly a
spirit when he strives after truth and seeks cognoscitively to
appropriate to himself all things. This is a legitimate striving after
possession,--after the possession of an inner world, a true copy of the
real one; and it is among the most essential sources of the bliss of
the perfected, that they know the truth and constantly appropriate to
themselves cognoscitively more of it. The acquiring of the truth is a
becoming free from the limits of a merely individual existence,--a
divesting ourselves of the mere state of nature, an assuming of a more
general character, an entering into the life and essence of the
self-concordant All, an appropriating of the objective outgoings of
spirit in general. "Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make
you free," says Christ to such as shall continue in his word [John
viii, 32]. Even as light breaks down the isolation of individual being,
and throws up a bridge to that which is outwardly separated from it,
thus causing all separate objects to exist in some sort for each other,
so the knowledge of truth frees man from the bonds of a merely isolated
being, opens for him the totality of existence as his
life-sphere,--throws a unifying bond around deity and the totality of
his creatures. As no life of the earth is without light, so also is
there no life of the spirit without the knowledge of truth; and it is
not this or that truth that makes man free, rational, and blessed, but
the truth; and the Spirit of the Lord strives to lead his disciples
into all truth. Whoever seeks to set limits to the moral thirst for
truth, whoever declares any truth as indifferent or unworthy of effort,
he resists the outgoings of the spirit of truth. Moreover, there is no
particular truth which stands isolated and for itself, and does not
first receive its validity from the truth which springs from the
eternal Spirit of God; and he who thinks to satisfy the thirst of the
soul for truth with certain separate morsels of truths from the sphere
of the finite and transitory, knows not the truth but only falsehood.
All true knowing is of such a nature that every other rational spirit
can and must know in precisely the same manner, and hence has a
significance beyond the possession of the individual,--is general
appropriation. Hence, as moral, it is also directly connected with a
tendency to make that which is appropriated by the individual person a
general possession of all rational beings. The moral man cannot wish to
retain the truth for himself alone, but the truth which has become his
possession impels him, by virtue of its general character, freely to
communicate it to others [Luke ii, 17; 1 John i, 1 sqq.]. The duty of
secret-keeping has a validity and significancy only on the supposition
of predominant sinfulness,--is inconceivable save on the presupposition
of sin; and the weakness of being unable to keep a secret springs, in
some sort at least, from a correct feeling of that which ought to be.
Goodhearted persons are usually poor secret-keepers; and for innocence
there is no secret. The truth, like light, cannot hide itself; it is
only with designing effort that either can be concealed. Truth, morally
considered, belongs not to the mere understanding but to the heart; and
with that of which the heart is full, the mouth overflows [Luke vi,
45]. He to whom the truth belongs, belongs also himself to the
truth,--must also bear witness of the truth. "We cannot but speak the
things which we have seen and heard," said Peter and John in the
presence of the chief council [Acts iv, 20], and they only express the
inner moral necessity of such a witnessing of obtained truth. Whoever
feels nothing of such an inner impulsion to witnessing either possesses
not the truth, or the truth possesses not him. With the witnessing of
the truth it is in some sense as it is with the first ante-moral love;
the person may indeed resist the inner impulse, but if he does not do
so then his immediate love of the truth will spontaneously induce him
to witness for it without any need of a special effort of the will. "Ye
also will bear witness (as well as the Holy Ghost), because ye have
been with me from the beginning," says the Lord to his disciples [John
xv, 27]; this is not an injunction but a promise; they will not be able
to do otherwise; the truth is stronger than the command. Hence he who
is of the truth needs no longer the law; for the truth impels him to
bear witness of itself through his life.
SECTION CV.
(2). Particular (individual) appropriating is enjoying. Here the object
exists solely for me in so far as I am an individual being,--becomes my
special possession. In enjoyment I do not, as in cognizing, have the
object purely as such, but I have it as it stands in accord with my
peculiarity, as it has become an element of my own being. In enjoyment
I have, therefore, always also myself as in some way affected by the
object; hence the sphere of enjoyment is essentially feeling, namely,
the feeling of pleasure. Enjoyment is either sensuous or spiritual; the
former is never moral per se, but only with and in the latter.--As the
personal spirit has an independent right, in and of itself, and as true
enjoyment rests on love to the object, and consequently is a
virtualization of this love, hence enjoyment is also a moral right, and
therefore also relatively a duty. The morality of enjoyment consists
primarily in a conscious and complete subordinating of merely sensuous
enjoyment to spiritual; and furthermore in the fact that it be always a
pure expression of moral love, and hence also of thankfulness, and that
it rest on joy in God,--that it stand in proper harmony with the
formative activity; and also in the fact that, by virtue of the
agreeable feeling manifested in it, it awake also communicative love,
namely, the tendency to extend the enjoyment to others.--The highest
enjoyment consists in the consciousness of the filial relation to God,
that is, in the perfect appropriation of life-communion with God; and
in fact to the child of God, only that is a real enjoyment, in which
also God has pleasure. In association with this enjoyment of the filial
relation to God, every other enjoyment is sanctified.
In learning, or cognizing, I throw into the back-ground my isolated
individuality,--let the truth, as general, rule over me; my mere
isolated being has no validity; in enjoying, on the contrary, I come
with my separate individuality into the fore-ground; the object per se
has no validity; in learning I have myself only as a member of the
whole, but in enjoying I have myself as an individuality distinct from
the whole. Hence enjoyment, as of such and such a form, is not
communicable; de gustibus non est disputandum. Whatever one rational
person cognizes as true, that must be cognized by all as true; but that
which is an enjoyment for one is not necessarily such for another. All
enjoyment is love, and the highest earthly love is conjugal and
maternal love; but this love which is at the same time the highest
earthly enjoyment, belongs to this or that particular person,--is by no
means personally-communicable; a child can be loved by no one else as
it is by its mother. As knowledge naturally impels to communication, so
enjoyment, on the contrary, impels rather to isolation; the
pleasure-seeker would fain have every thing for himself; if he seeks
society, it is only in so far as society becomes to him an object of
enjoyment. Enjoyment readily gives rise to jealousy, whereas knowledge
tends to a liberal imparting of the acquired truth; even maternal love
knows jealousy.
Christian morality begrudges not enjoyment to man, not even the
sensuous, for "the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof" [1
Cor. x, 6; Psa. xxiv, 1; comp. Gen. ii, 9]. The pious reference of all
enjoyment to God as the Giver of all good, and thankful love to him,
render even sensuous enjoyment moral, in so far as it is sought in the
divinely-ordained manner,--spiritualize it, in fact, by the
heart-disposition of the subject, and place the joy proper in the
spiritual associations of the sensuous. So soon as sensuous enjoyment
is sought purely for itself, apart from the spiritual and from love to
God, it becomes at once immoral, seeing that it then interrupts (S:
102) the spiritual life, which by its very nature is continuous; of the
relation of enjoyment to forming, we will speak hereafter.
The communication of enjoyment,--a constituent element of its
morality,--springs not from the essence of the same, but from love to
man in general. It can only take place in so far as thereby the essence
of the enjoyment is not affected; the enjoyment that lies in the
family-life can never be made a common possession; and the fact that in
the case of a few rude tribes, hospitality is extended to a
communicating even of marital rights, [12] is evidence simply of a
perversion of the moral. Manifestly, however, wedlock-happiness and
that of the family in general require, in order to their being moral,
that they be communicated to others, not, however, as a direct
enjoyment, but through hospitality,--through the throwing open of the
family to friendly intercourse, through the permitting of others to
share in the inner peace of the domestic life. Hence there is not
lacking a moral back-ground for the custom of reserving the higher
sensuous enjoyment of repasts for hospitable occasions, in which the
spiritual intercourse, and hence spiritual enjoyment, occupies the
fore-ground, while the sensuous enjoyment appears only as an attendant
in the back-ground. The idea of Paradise is the epitome of the entire
circle of true enjoyments,--it is not a mere crude or childish
fancy-creation, but the very truth itself. Christian morality is not
averse to enjoyment; it favors man's taking delight in this world of
reality. But Paradise exists only where man is in filial communion with
the divine Father,--where love to God sanctifies all earthly enjoyment.
"The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and
peace, and joy, in the Holy Ghost" [Rom. xiv, 17]. Christianity knows
no other joy than joy in the Lord; "Rejoice in the Lord always, and
again I say, Rejoice" [Phil. iv, 4]. He who rejoices in the Lord, takes
true delight in all that comes from the Lord [Deut. xxvi, 11]. To man
as sinful many enjoyments are forbidden, because he is able to enjoy
them only sinfully; to the pure the sphere of morally-pure enjoyment is
much wider and richer [Titus i, 15]. The child of God has enjoyment in
every thing, and every thing is to him a moral enjoyment, save alone
the violation of God's law; to him the world is a paradise, for it is
God's, as is also himself; and he loves not the world without God, but
only in God and with God. The blessedness of the children of God, the
unspeakable enjoyment of true heart-devotion in fervent prayer, in
which man knows himself at one with his God, and rests in the peace of
God, is not a subject for scientific synthesis and analytical
description; it belongs to the sphere of the inner life, and needs to
be experienced rather than described; the world knows nothing thereof.
III. MORAL FORMING.
SECTION CVI.
Moral forming works the harmony of existence, in that thereby man
impresses upon objective existence the peculiarity of his own
spirit,--makes it an expression thereof, that is, spiritually shapes
it. The object is destroyed not in its existence, but only in its
isolation and peculiarity,--receives the peculiarity of the acting
spirit, is imbued with, and thus bound to, it. Forming is morally good
not when it is an impressing of the merely individual and as yet not
morally-rational spirit upon the object (for this would be injustice to
the object, a non-sparing of its legitimate being), but when it is an
impressing of the spirit as moral, as rational and as in harmony with
God, that is, when the object itself is formed toward a complete
harmony with the morally-rational collective spirit. Moral forming must
therefore always be associated with moral sparing, and all the more so
the higher the spiritual significance and worth of the object that is
to be formed. As related to the moral spirit, therefore, all moral
forming is an educating, which latter is never an absolutely
all-determining forming, but a forming that respects the rights of the
personality that is to be formed.
The outward-going formative activity can neither be arbitrary and
purposeless, nor a mere destroying of that which exists, but must have
a rational end and a right of its own. In view of the wants of the
moral activity, therefore, created existence cannot be, primarily, at
once and definitively completed and perfected, though indeed it is
good, but it stands in the presence of the activity of the rational
spirit as formable material to which man, as active, has a right, and
the final completion of which is an end for human activity. It is only
through forming that man makes the objective world his own, namely, in
that he impresses upon it his stamp, and makes it by moral activity
into a likeness of himself, and therefore into his own possession. "Do
your own business (prassein ta idia) and work with your own hands" [1
Thess. iv, 11]; man really possesses nothing as his own but that which
he has produced by working and forming; and it is not a curse but an
original moral law of the universe, that the true existence of man,
bodily as well as spiritually-moral, is conditioned on formative
working, on labor. Even the first man was not placed in Paradise simply
to enjoy its delights, simply to appropriate to himself, naturally and
spiritually, that which already existed, but he was to cultivate the
garden [Gen. ii, 15]. Man is called to dominion over nature, to be a
creator of a spiritual World; this is both a wide and also a
privileging and obligating field for the moral. The play of the child
is a forming; that of the brute has no objective significancy; and
wherever by virtue of an instinct, the brute exercises a formative
activity, there we are simply presented with a natural symbol of the
moral, as in the case of the bee, the ant, etc.
Forming, as compared to sparing and appropriating, appears at once as
the higher, and generally more difficult, form of activity; sparing is
a mere checking of the outward-going activity; appropriating, according
to its kind, either annihilates the objective existence, or leaves its
substance untouched; but forming interferes positively with the
existence and peculiarity of the object. There is need here, on the one
hand, of a considerate respecting of the right of the object to its own
peculiarity, so that the forming may not become an unjust perverting
and destroying, and, on the other hand, of a proper and clear
consciousness of the rational purpose of the transforming.
Appropriating begins earlier in the spiritual development of man than
forming; the latter always presupposes some degree of moral maturity;
forming as exercised by an immature spirit is a destroying. The
formative activity of the child appears as a rending-asunder of
whatever falls into its hand; the historical activity of savage or
half-civilized tribes, bears also this childish character. Unripe youth
have also, as relating to society and the state and to historical
reality in general, great pleasure in destruction; and the
revolutionary spirit of boisterous young men is only a higher degree of
the destructive proclivity of the child; but on the supposition of the
attainment of higher spiritual maturity, that which is innocent in the
child becomes a culpable lack of judgment. Moral forming must
necessarily always have also a preserving phase, inasmuch as in all
that which is to be formed there is also something that has a right to
existence, and hence a claim upon sparing; and an education which
ignores this right in the pupil, is violent and therefore immoral.
SECTION CVII.
Moral forming differs likewise in two respects. (a) According to that
which is formed in the object, it is either a sensuously-natural or a
spiritual forming.--1. Natural forming is a shaping of nature-material
for the human spirit by virtue of the mastery of the spirit over
nature, to the end either of practical utility or of a manifesting of
spirit in art-work. Nature, as created, is indeed per se good and
perfect, but it becomes a true home for, a true organ of, the spirit
and of history, only by becoming imbued with spirit. Natural forming is
moral and rational only in so far as it is the sensuous expressing of a
spiritual forming.
All dominating is necessarily a forming, inasmuch as the dominated is
more or less an expression of the will of the dominating power. A
natural entity can bear this expression only in virtue of being shaped
by man and at the same time for man. In natural forming the difference
between man, as a moral creature, and the brute, becomes at once
plainly visible. The activity of the brute is predominantly a sensuous
appropriating; that of man is predominantly a forming, and indeed
primarily a sensuously-natural forming. The appropriating of nature is
primarily permitted by God to man, and is limited by a prohibition only
in one respect; the forming of nature is enjoined upon him [Gen. i, 28;
ii, 15]. The mere letting alone of even a Paradisaical nature in its
given condition, is for man per se immoral; he is called to form it
into a home for himself by his personal activity.--But man cannot
morally accomplish a natural forming save on the condition that there
exists already in him an antecedent moral forming. The artist cannot
create a work of art unless it has already been spiritually formed in
his soul; and each and every object that is shaped, is to be, in its
entire purpose, not a mere solitary something existing for itself, but
rather one of the stones of a greater and essentially-spiritual
structure,--the structure of history. Man shapes nature not for its own
sake but for humanity, namely, into a home for man's spiritual life,
into an expression of historical reality,--which is essentially the
product of spiritual forming. Hence natural forming has always the
purpose simply of serving the spiritual, even as the nourishment and
development of the body take place not in the interest of the body, but
of the spirit.
SECTION CVIII.
Spiritual forming relates to the spiritual essence of the object, and
hence predominantly to the conscious spirit; it is a communicating of
the spiritual possession of the subject to the object, a shaping of the
object according to the rational idea of the subject, a putting of the
former into harmony with the moral person of the latter. Each man has
the duty of helping spiritually to form every other one who comes into
spiritual relation with him, that is, of communicating to him his own
moral nature, of revealing himself to him; this holds good even of the
as yet morally immature in relation to the morally mature. All
morally-spiritual communicating is a forming, and all spiritual forming
is a communicating. Communicating is, however, only then a moral
forming, when the communicating spirit itself stands in harmony with
God, is itself morally good, and when its motive is love.
Also spiritual forming extends in a certain sense to nature-objects, in
so far as these are not a mere sensuous existence, but have also
spiritual contents. The training and ennobling of domestic animals is
not a sensuous but a relatively-spiritual forming, inasmuch as their
inner nature is raised to a higher plane. The chief sphere of spiritual
forming is, however, the personal spirit. Man has neither the right nor
the liberty to develop himself as a mere isolated individual,--he
cannot develop himself morally save when in spiritual life-relation
with the moral community; and each stands with every other in such a
moral relation. And this relation is a mutual forming and
appropriating, at the same time. Man is formed only by appropriating to
himself spiritual elements, that is, in that another spirit reveals
itself to him. Forming cannot take place morally by the imbuing of
thoughts and sentiments that are foreign to the subject himself into
the spirit that is to be educated, for this would be deception, and
would not establish a spiritual communion; it can be done only by a
self-revelation of the moral spirit. Only the morally-formed spirit can
itself form; the immoral spirit can only pervert, and can do this
successfully only when it affects morality. However, it is not
necessary that the formative spirit should be already mature; also the
child exerts a formative influence upon its elders.--In the condition
of sinlessness the formative activity has no need of art or of a
calculated plan; mere self-manifestation exercises a formative
influence directly and of itself. All artfully-planned manners of
influencing are evidence of lost purity, and cannot, however cunningly
contrived, exert the power of the moral reality. The moral spirit lets
its light shine before men that they may see its good works, and this
light directly illumines and enlightens the spirit of others. This
self-revelation, however, would be immoral, that is, hollow and empty,
were it to spring from self-complacency instead of from love to others.
It is love alone that divests this letting one's light shine of an
appearance of parade. Loving souls hide themselves not from each other;
true love impels to a full and genuine self-communication; and moral
love has nothing that it would gladly or necessarily conceal.
SECTION CIX.
(b) According to the manner in which the objective entity is
formatively influenced, we have to distinguish between particular and
general forming.
1. Particular forming forms single objects for the service of the
earthly wants of single or several persons, that is, for use for
temporal ends. It is therefore labor, in the proper and narrower sense
of the word. Labor relates not merely to natural matter, but also to
the individual spirit, in so far as the latter is to be formed for the
temporal earthly life, and hence is spiritual as well as natural
forming.
All utility relates to the particular; that which is for the common
utility is simply that which is useful for many particular persons.
When the Rationalistic school spoke of the "common utility" of
religion, it manifested simply very bad taste; religion is thus placed
on a par, e. g., with a public fountain or an advertising sheet. Labor
concerns the individual; works for the common utility, such as roads or
canals, look not to the good of humanity as a whole, as a unity, but to
the many individual persons whom they are to benefit; for him who does
not use them, they have no significancy and are perhaps even offensive.
Their utility and enjoyment fall to the individual as such, but not in
virtue of his being a man, a rational spirit. In a work of art,
however, one has pleasure precisely in his character of rational
spirituality; although from another stand-point this work is of no
"use" to him whatever. That which is to exalt the heart must be more
than labor. Products of labor may indeed excite a general and rational
interest, as, for example, a machine or other superior fruits of skill;
here, however, it is not the work itself that is admired, but the art
to which the handicraft has been exalted,--the spiritual power of
invention, that is, the power of spirit,--not the utility, but the
beauty or ingenuity,--not the merely individual element, but the
spiritual, which, as such, bears upon itself the stamp of general
significancy and validity. The actual work on a machine is performed
not by the ingenious inventor, the master, but by the manual laborer;
and in that which this laborer executes there is little else to admire
than the industry, but nothing of a general interest. The end of a work
of art is not, to be used by the individual, but to be enjoyed and
admired universally; and it is properly regarded as a sign of spiritual
unculture when a particular age takes delight only in the merely
useful, in mere labor, and not also in that which transcends labor,
namely, in art,--when the age does not also exalt labor into art. In
the time of Rationalistic illuminism many "useless" art-structures of
the Middle Ages, magnificent castles and churches, were converted into
magazines and factories,--art was turned into a hand-maid of labor;
this was certainly very "useful," but it was at the same time also an
evidence of shameful unculture. The spirit of mere utility is but
little removed from barbarism.
Labor is not mere manual toil. Common usage is perfectly right when it
speaks also, and not merely in the stricter sense of the word, of
spiritual, intellectual, labor, and of intellectual laborers, in
distinction from a higher spiritual and intellectual activity. The
highest results to which the spirit can attain are not effected by
labor; the delicate, etherial image which delights our astonished gaze
was not painfully wrought out by the sweat of the multitude, but sprang
forth at once from the brain of genius; but, as distinguished from this
ideal activity of the spirit, there is another which is entitled to be
called work in the strict sense of the word, and which consists in a
strictly-particular forming. All spiritual activity which looks to the
mere benefit of individuals is labor; thus, we speak of the labor of
pupils, of official labors, etc. The pupil labors in order, by the
appropriation of particular scientific material, to form himself as an
individual for a calling in life; the teacher labors upon the pupil for
the same end. All spiritual forming which looks to success in the
world, to obtaining a position in it, is labor; hence also we may speak
of a scientific industry; there is an immense difference between
science as manual labor, and science as an art. When the learner,
however, elevates himself to a more ideal activity,--when, inspired
with enthusiasm for the true and the good, he soars above the merely
particular, or when the teacher seeks to awaken an enthusiasm of this
character in him, then the activity ceases to be labor and becomes a
higher kind of forming. It is true, we sometimes speak, though in a
less strict sense, of a laboring in the sphere of purely spiritual
things, as, for example, in that of religion and of active love [Rom.
xvi, 6, 12; 1 Thess. i, 3; Heb. vi, 10; 1 Cor. xv, 58; 2 Cor. vi, 5;
xi, 27; Rev. ii, 2, 3; xiv, 13]; Paul says, "I labored more abundantly
than they all" [1 Cor. xv, 10], and the pastor and the messenger of the
Word may speak of their labor on souls [1 Cor. xvi, 16; 2 Cor. x, 15;
xi, 23; 1 Thess. iii, 5; v, 12; 1 Tim. v, 17]; however, in this
essentially figuratively-used expression [see John iv, 38; 1 Cor. iii,
8] reference is had not to the activity per se, but to the trouble in
overcoming obstacles (hence the words kopos and kopia) which lie not in
the matter itself, but in other circumstances, such as the enmity of
sinful men, the feebleness of the actor himself, etc.
SECTION CX.
2. General forming forms the object for a general, that is, a rational
end,--not merely for a particular need, for temporal utility. but for
the rational and moral spirit in general,--forms it for rational
enjoyment, for moral approbation, i. e. into a beautiful and good
product,--is artistic forming, in the largest sense of the word. It may
be a sensuous as well as a spiritual forming. The natural entity
receives a spiritual form,--becomes an expression, an image, of the
rational spirit, an expression of harmony in general,--a work of art.
The spiritual entity is formed into an essentially God-answering, truly
rational character, into a beautiful soul, into a child of God.
Religious and ideal culture in general differs essentially from
education for a worldly calling,--aims not to make man into a "useful"
and serviceable being, but into one in whom both God and men have
pleasure, and who has himself pleasure in God and in all that is divine
and beautiful,--seeks not to mold him into a merely isolated being, a
mere citizen, a mere professional man, but seeks to bring to
development that which is purely and truly human in him,--seeks to make
the merely natural person into an image of the moral spirit, into a
true image of God, into an expression of the truth. All that which is
created by general forming is art-work; and when this forming, as
distinguished from professional working, creates a science, then this
science becomes itself a work of art. Hence, no general forming is
possible without moral enthusiasm, that is, without being imbued with
and prompted by a universal spirit which divests itself of all
individual narrowness, and of all selfishness, and aspires to a
universal divine ideal (S: 96).--A special phase of general forming
constitutes the typical or symbolical activity, under which falls also
the morally becoming.
The fruit which is aimed at in mere work is only for the benefit of the
individual; works of art, and the beautiful and good in general, are
for the spiritual enjoyment of rational man as such. Also the angels
must rejoice in heaven, not only over a sinner who repents, but also
over all that is truly beautiful. Man forms himself into a useful, a
skillful, a learned member of society by labor and pains-taking, but
into a beautiful soul only by enthusiasm; this is indeed not the
beautiful soul as improvised by sentimental novelists, but the soul
that is beautiful in the eyes of God and of all of God's children,--the
child-soul of a child of God, full of love and enthusiasm,--the soul of
him who is pure of heart, and which inwardly beholds God, because God
looks upon it with pleasure. Hence the Scriptures look upon the higher
artistic endowment as a special gift from God [Exod. xxxi, 3, 6; xxxvi,
1, 2].
Art in its deepest ground and essence is religious, as in fact
historically it is a birth of religion; this holds good. without
exception of all nations. No religion is without art, without an ideal
embodying of the highest ideas. Architecture, plastic art and song,
among all nations, have sprung from religion, and are the subservient
attendants of religion [Exod. xxxi, 2 sqq.; xxxv, 1 sqq.]; and it
required all the ungenial one-sidedness and bald reflective tendency of
Zwingli to banish art from the Church,--a wrong against Christian
humanity which has, at least in some degree, been disavowed in most of
the branches of the Reformed Church. Even worldly art, in so far as it
has not, untrue to its essential nature, entered into the service of
sin, is closely related to religion. It also elevates man above the
merely individual and sensuously-natural; and, itself a birth of
enthusiasm, it awakens also in man enthusiasm for the beautiful and the
noble,--for that which raises him out of his isolation and
self-seeking, and up to that which finds response in all moral souls.
Love to art banishes rudeness,--makes the heart receptive also for the
morally beautiful and divine. Hence the culture of art is so important
an element in education and in the life of nations. But for this reason
also art becomes such a demon-power, when, forgetting its nobility, it
stoops to the role of pandering to corrupt pleasure, and when, instead
of inspiring enthusiasm for the truly beautiful, it only aims to
intoxicate and seduce by lustful appeals to the senses. Wherever there
is a healthful religious life, there art and religion stand in intimate
and mutual relations. Where faith is alive in the heart, there it
utters itself in "psalms and spiritual songs," there it celebrates the
glory of its God in a becoming ornamentation of his altars and courts
[Exod. xxxv, 21 sqq.], and wherever true art prevails there it
consecrates the most beautiful of its products to the honor of God.
Religion created for the Greeks poets and artists, and the poets and
artists created for the Greeks their gods; and however much there may
have been of heathen error in these creations, still this much at least
is here exemplified, namely, that the divine makes its nearest
approaches to man in the words, the songs and the works of artistic
inspiration. The prophets of the Ancient Covenant were also unable to
bring down to the plane of mere simple prose, the visions which they
had spiritually beholden; and also the Prophet of the New Covenant
publishes his visions under the drapery of boldly-constructed symbols.
He who finds fault with this knows neither art nor religion.
General moral forming does not necessarily take place directly and
immediately; as relating to the free spirit, it consists essentially in
the fact that, by the moral activity of the subject, the object is so
incited and inspired as to bring about self-development through his own
spontaneity and strength. In this consists the true art of education
and governing, namely, in that the guiding power hides itself in some
respect from the spirit that is to be molded,--does not permit its
influence upon it to appear as a limiting, overpowering force, but
rather simply gives scope for free and independent self-development.
This does not take place, however, by a simple "letting alone" of the
one who is to be guided, but by the fact that the moral and rational
consciousness is quickened and strengthened in him,--that he is brought
to feel and know himself, not as a mere non-obligated individual, but
as a personality inspired by a holy and moral spirit,--that a moral
disposition and an ideal enthusiasm become in him an actuating power,
which in turn itself forms him to a higher development and perfection.
There is an important sphere of moral activity, namely, symbolical
forming--to which belongs also the practicing of the becoming,--which
can be understood only from the stand-point of general artistic
forming;--a sphere of stumbling and offense to all champions of the
merely prosaically useful. The morally-good, is not simply to become
real, but the real is also to be an expression, a manifestation of the
morally-good,--is to bear witness in its entire outward appearance to
an inner ideal quality, and every single good is to show itself not
merely as per se good, but is also to point to a higher good beyond
itself. Even as in nature, the good, as a regulated means to an end, is
associated with a beauty more significant than the mere fitness for an
end,--even as the flower not merely possesses the fructifying organs
and the delicate tissues that protect them, but also, in its graceful
form, its hues and its fragrance, delights man, and, as a symbol of the
eternally beautiful, reminds him of divine love and of the glory of
God,--even as the birds of song not only nourish themselves and
propagate their race, but also praise the goodness of the Creator in
strains that touch the heart,--even as God not only causes the sun to
shine and to awaken life, and the clouds to drop rain, but also paints
on the skies the color-resplendent bow as a pledge of his faithfulness
and grace,--in a word, as God himself decks his creation with such
grandeur that the heavens proclaim his glory, and with such beauty that
the understanding is incapable adequately to comprehend it, but only
the adoring heart to feel and love it,--so also man, as God-like, not
only forms that which is useful for the temporal life, but also that
which, as a significant sign, points to a higher good,--forms reality
into a type of the true and good,--creates the poetry of reality. Every
artistic product is such a sign or symbol, but all symbolical forming
is not properly artistic in the stricter sense, though it is indeed
poetical. The clothing of man is not simply for a protection against
the weather, but also largely a suggestive expression of the inner
life; all adornment as well as cleanliness has a spiritual
suggestiveness. For him who knows not this symbolical, poetical phase
of the moral, a very important and essential part of morality remains
incomprehensible. A large portion of the moral precepts of the
Scriptures look not to a direct and simple realization of a good, but
to the expressive suggesting of a moral element not directly contained
in the matter itself,--have a symbolical character; and lightly to
esteem this phase of things is an indication of moral obtuseness.
Doubtless it was not very "useful" when Mary, the sister of Lazarus,
took a pound of pure and costly ointment and anointed the Lord's feet;
and the harsh reproof of Judas was perfectly well-grounded from the
stand-point of mere utilitarianism, but the Lord judged very
differently from Judas [John xii, 3 sqq.; comp. Mark xiv, 3 sqq.]. To
this category belong almost all the precepts of the Old Testament in
regard to the clean and the unclean, to food and clothing,--in which
case the object of the forming is man himself,--and also in regard to
the form of worship and whatever is therewith connected, such as
circumcision, etc., as well as in regard to agriculture [Lev. xix, 19;
Deut. xxii, 9, 10] and to the treatment of animals [Exod. xxi, 28, 29,
32; xxiii, 19; Lev. xx, 15, 16].
The becoming is the outward, beautiful or symbolical form of the
moral,--in a certain sense its esthetic phase. To celebrate the Lord's
day in the spiritual-exalting of the heart to God, is a moral duty; to
give expression to the celebration by sacred art and by a worthy
outward appearance, is becoming. The ungodly world is prone to
substitute in the place of the moral substance an outwardly and
externally gracious form--the becoming; the suggestion: "That is not
becoming," is with the irreligious world of much more weight than: "It
is sinful." The outward form may indeed be hypocritically assumed in
the absence of the substance, but he who holds fast to the moral
substance, must observe also the form; he only is morally-cultured who
not only observes the substance of the general precepts, but also aims
at the morally-becoming; and this is in fact a general and artistic
forming on the part of the moral activity. The becoming stands not
along-side of the moral precept, but is essentially contained in it,
as, in fact, without it man remains coarse and rude. Almost all of the
above-mentioned precepts of the Old Testament are precepts of the
becoming, and the New Testament also lays great stress on the becoming
[1 Cor. xi, 4 sqq.; 1 Tim. ii, 9, and others].
SECTION CXI.
Appropriating and forming are, in a right moral development, ever in
association with each other, and that too all the closer the higher
their character. No spiritual appropriating is without spiritual
self-forming, and no forming of an objective entity is without a
spiritual appropriating of the thing formed; and in fact the forming of
one's own spirit is per se necessarily an appropriating. The measure of
appropriating and especially of enjoying stands in all right
development, always in strict relation to the measure of the forming;
and the two modes of forming are associated not only with each other,
but also with the two modes of appropriating, as are in turn the latter
with each other.
The fruit of labor and still more the work of art, are the property of
the laborer and the artist; they call it their own; they have
appropriated it to themselves in the very process of producing it. The
outward-directed activity turns thus about and flows back into the
acting person. In forming an objective entity, man forms his own self;
he has the work not merely as his own, as a copy of his thought, but he
is also himself spiritually and morally promoted both by the working
and by the work. All forming is self-forming; and inasmuch as man
stands to his fellows in a spiritual relation,--reveals himself to them
through his culture,--hence all self-forming is directly also in turn a
forming of others.--All particular forming, all work, should as moral
include in itself also at the same time an element of general forming;
without this the laborer falls into spiritual and moral deterioration.
When the laborer unites the useful with the beautiful,--gives to his
work a graceful form,--when song accompanies the work, when the heart
mounts up from the work that serves a temporal end, toward the Eternal
One, and thus puts into earnest practice the precept: "Pray and labor,"
then the particular forming is exalted and transfigured by the general.
The more isolated, the more limited, the work is, so much the more
preponderates the merely useful phase of it; hence no work is so
dangerous, nay, so detrimental, to the harmoniously-moral culture of
man as the spiritless mechanism of factory-work; and white slavery
works here often much more ruinously than the black. The uninterrupted
monotony of the narrow routine of the work paralyzes the spirit and
subverts morality.
Furthermore, all forming is not only a general appropriating, formative
of the subject himself, in that he recognizes the product of his
influence, but also a particular appropriating, in that he enjoys it.
The divine prototype of this is seen in the account of creation, where
we read that God looked upon all that he had made, and found that it
was very good. All moral work, and still more, all general forming,
are, in and of themselves, also enjoyment, and that too the highest and
purest enjoyment, even as in the above utterance of the Creator his own
bliss was implicitly expressed also. But also the sensuous enjoyment
that is not directly included in the formative activity itself, is
nevertheless, in virtue of the moral order of the world, associated
with it. Adam was first to dress and care for the garden, and
thereafter to eat of its fruits [Gen. ii, 15, 16]. "If any one will not
work, neither should he eat" [2 Thess. iii, 10]; this is a morally
unassailable principle; and where the practice is otherwise, there the
social relations are corrupt; and the grudge of the suffering laborer
against the luxurious idler has a very just foundation. In proportion
to the degree of productive activity, rises or falls the moral right to
enjoyment in general, and to personal position in society. Hence the
admonition: Let each labor to produce with his own hands something good
[Eph. iv, 28; comp. Acts xx, 34, 35; 1 Thess. iv, 11; ii, 9].
SECTION CXII.
Inasmuch as man becomes perfect only through the perfect all-sided
development of all his life-phases, and as ally exclusive realization
and culture of one, or simply some, of them works a disturbance of the
inner harmony, hence every person should, in so far as his
circumstances admit of it, realize every form of moral appropriation
and moral culture. He who allows his life to be devoted exclusively to
particular forming and appropriating,--to toil and enjoyment, has
fallen out of moral harmony, and is consequently immoral. General, and
hence, essentially, religious, forming must attend the work hand in
hand; and the ordination of the Sabbath along-side of the days of labor
has not simply a religious, but essentially also a moral significancy.
Moral resting from labor is a rising to ideal self-culture, an exalting
of the temporally-particular into the eternal, the holy, the general,
the divine; the celebrating of the Sabbath is the higher and moral
transfiguring of the temporal prosaic individual life by the poesy of
the ideal and the infinite.
In particular forming man merges himself into objective existence;
primarily he has not the object in his own possession, but the object
possesses him; hence the danger, especially in a state of sinfulness,
that the person lose himself in his labor,--that, as in sensuous
enjoyment, he passively surrender himself to the creature [Eccles. vi,
7, in the Hebrew text]. Man should, however, hold fast to himself and
to his Creator,--should withdraw himself from his absorption in finite
things, collect himself in spiritual repose,--should obtain fresh moral
strength for the particular forming of industry, in the general forming
which springs of enthusiasm. Even as God, though merging himself into
the world while creating it, yet did not lose and forget himself in it,
but returned to himself and to his infinite self-sufficiency, and ever
retains himself in eternal unchangeable majesty above all that is
created, so also is it a moral requirement that man, in his creating of
the finite and particular, should not forget himself as a personality
gifted with eternal destinies; it is for man's sake that the Sabbath
was made [Mark ii, 27]. It is very suggestive that in the Scriptures
the repose of God after creation is made the prototype and basis for
the celebration of the Sabbath [Gen. ii, 3; Exod. xx, 8 sqq. ]. It is
thereby implied that it is our innermost God-likeness that calls for
the rest of the Sabbath,--the truly rational, religiously-moral essence
of man, and not the mere natural need of repose and enjoyment. That
which is with God only two phases of his eternal life itself, and not
an alternation in time, namely, creative action and self-possession,
this falls, in the case of the finite spirit, at least partially, into
such an alternation,--into labor and Sabbath-rest. God blessed the
Sabbath day; there rests upon its observance an especial, an
extraordinary benediction, an impartation of heavenly goods, even as
the blessing upon labor is primarily only an importation of temporal
goods. The Sabbath has not merely a negative significancy, is not a
mere interruption of labor, but it has a very rich positive
significancy,--it is the giving free scope to the higher,
time-transcending nature of the rational God-like spirit, the
re-attaching of the spirit that had been immersed by labor into the
temporal, to the imperishable and to the divine. Where God is conceived
of as swallowed up in nature, as with the Chinese and in the unbelief
of our own day, there exists no Sabbath; there is to be found only a
discretionary alternation of labor and sensuous enjoyment. The
celebration of the Sabbath belongs to morality per se, and does not
depend on the fact of the state of redemption from sinfulness; but
where sin is as yet a dominant power there its observance is
necessarily less free, legally more strict, than where the freedom of
the children of God prevails.
From the fact that all moral working is attended also with a general
forming, it follows manifestly that, for him who is truly morally free,
the antithesis of Sabbath-rest and labor is not of an absolute
character,--that every day and all labor have also their Sabbath
consecration, and that, on the other hand, also the Sabbath does not
absolutely exclude all work. It is perfectly clear, however, that, in
general, only such works consist with the observance of the Sabbath as
express a general formative activity,--as bear an artistic character in
the noblest sense of the word. In this category belong those healings
of the sick by which the Lord incurred the reproach of
Sabbath-breaking. Such works are not labor, but, as a restoring of the
disturbed order of the universe, ate of general and spiritual
significancy.
SUBDIVISION SECOND.
THE MORAL ACTIVITY IN ITS DIFFERENCES AS RELATING TO ITS DIFFERENT OBJECTS.--I.
IN RELATION TO GOD.
SECTION CXIII.
As God sustains to man an essentially active and creative, but not a
receptive, relation, hence in the strict sense of the word he is an
object only of moral appropriating.
(a) The moral appropriating of God is directly at the same time also
the highest moral self-forming of the moral person, and contains two
necessarily associated elements: first, that God becomes for us, and
secondly, that we become for God; that is, that, on the one hand, we
take up into our moral consciousness the ever present divine, and that,
on the other, we elevate our moral consciousness to God,--form it into
the divine life; the former is faith, the latter is worship; neither
can exist without the other. Believing is the lovingly-willed and
lovingly-willing, that is, the pious recognizing of God as lovingly
revealing himself to us as our Lord and our Father, and to whom we are
obligated to unconditional obedience and submissive love,--it is the
self-consciousness of man as having come to its rational truth, namely,
in that man regards himself no more as a mere isolated individual, but
thinks of himself constantly and strictly in his relations to God.
As believing is essentially the particular appropriating of God, so the
knowing, the cognizing of Him is the general appropriating; and hence
the striving for this knowledge is a high moral duty; this duty is
fulfilled not without believing, but only through and in virtue of the
same,--is a spiritual receiving and a true appropriating of the divine
revelation imparted to us through the channel of faith, in regard to
the nature, power, and will of God. The correct knowledge of God is not
the antecedent condition, but the goal of the moral striving, and hence
without it there can be no perfection of morality.
God is indeed per se already present in every creature; but in order
that he shall be truly present for man, that is, in a manner called for
by his rational nature, it is necessary that man shall freely
appropriate to himself this presence of God. I possess rationally only
that which I rationally and morally appropriate. All appropriating, and
hence all faith, pre-supposes a difference, and at the same time a
mutual life-relation between its subject and its object; what I already
am, in and of myself, that I cannot appropriate to myself. That the
appropriating of God is a moral act, arises from the fact that man may
fully admit his difference from, and yet not heartily recognize his
life-relation to, God,--may cling to himself as independent of God, may
sinfully aspire even to become like God. It is a moral activity when
man raises his self-consciousness, which is primarily merely
individual, into a truly rational one, and conceives of himself not
merely as an isolated being, but as conditioned by God, that is, as
created by and obligated to God; it is only this religious
self-consciousness that is moral, and this is in fact faith. Faith is
not a mere regarding as true, not a mere religious knowledge, or a mere
objective consciousness, but it is a morally-conditioned believing, a
willing, and hence a loving, recognition; in faith we will to have God
and a consciousness of him in us, and we desire this consciousness as
divine, that is, as a full and true life-force, and hence as operative,
as realizing the divine. The notion of faith combines, therefore,
loving and willing with knowing,--is not identical with one of the
three, but is the unity of them,--is not an affair of the mere
understanding but of the heart (S: 53). Faith is the thankful
reflection of the divine love; he who is loved by God, turns himself
lovingly toward the loving One. Without the love of God to man there
would be no love of man to God; man believes because he becomes
conscious of the divine love; he who would only recognize received
love, but not reciprocated it with his heart, is immoral; a mere
recognition of God without heart-faith is sinful.
"Faith is the substance (the sure confidence) of things hoped for, the
evidence of things not seen" [Heb. xi, 1]; it is not a confidence of
that which falls within the immediate scope of experience, but of that
which lies beyond it, not of that which already exists in realization
but of that which is yet, in virtue of faith, to be realized into fact,
though indeed it already exists in germ. The really complete
life-communion with God, the full appropriating of the divine, is at
first only an object of hope,--can be really brought about only through
faith; and faith lays hold, in full confidence of success, upon the
divine as lovingly revealing itself to it. Faith stands, therefore, not
by the side of knowledge, as if not including this within itself, nor
yet below it, as if it were but a lower degree thereof, and would cease
with the increase of knowledge, but in fact above it, inasmuch as it is
a loving knowing, a lovingly-willed and lovingly-willing knowing of
God, so that consequently it includes within itself both feeling and
willing as essential constituent elements. Believing leads to knowing,
but also precedes actual knowing, and hence is not conditioned thereon.
As particular appropriating, believing or faith is, so to speak, an
enjoying of the divine,--belongs essentially to the personality itself,
and is therefore not communicable, whereas knowing may, on the
presupposition of faith, be communicated by instruction. In the entire
sphere of the religious life, believing precedes knowing, for without
faith God would no more exist for us than would sensuous objects
without our senses; believing includes, it is true, some degree of
knowing, but is not per se complete knowing. And for the simple reason
that believing includes knowing as an essential element, it is a moral
requirement to bring our knowing to its highest possible perfection,
and thereby also to heighten and strengthen faith. The divine
revelation as received by faith becomes real knowledge by a proper
spiritual merging of ourselves into it, by a full appropriating of its
contents into our entire spiritually-transformed being, so that the
knowing becomes thus a powerful moral motive to the loving of God and
to obedience to his will [Psa. lxiii, 7 sqq.; Jer. xxix, 13, 14; John
viii, 32; Acts xvii, 27; Col. i, 11; Eph. i, 17, 18]. The knowledge of
God consists not merely in the, as yet, only imperfectly attainable [1
Cor. xiii, 9, 10; 2 Cor. v, 7; Isa. lv, 8, 9] knowledge of God's being
[Rom. i, 19, 20], but also of the divine will as to us [Col. i, 9, 10;
Eph. v, 15-17] and of the divine providential activity in nature and in
human life, and of the holy purpose of his world-government. Though
indeed a proper and ripe knowledge of God leads to a higher perfection
of the moral life, still knowledge is not, as faith, the antecedent
condition of the moral in general; for only he can know the truth of
God who is pure of heart [Matt. v, 8].
SECTION CXIV.
The second phase of the moral appropriating of God is, that man becomes
for God,--that he exalts himself toward God by a moral act in order to
unite God actually, and not simply in inner recognition, with
himself,--in order to permit the divine activity to be influential upon
him; this is in fact the worshiping of God, which is at once a
religious and a moral, and hence a holy, activity. The worship of God
is either purely spiritual and at the same time affirmative, namely, in
that man puts himself spiritually into direct relation with God,--rises
to God in pious devotion, which is prayer,--or it is of a rather
virtual and at the same time more negative character, namely, a free
moral turning away from the ungodly and the unholy,--sacrifice. These
two phases of the worshiping of God belong inseparably together; there
is no prayer without sacrifice, and no sacrifice without prayer.
Faith is the purely inward phase of the moral appropriating of the
divine,--the woman-like self-opening of the soul for the in-shining of
the divine light; in this receiving, the person remains strictly in and
with himself. Worshiping is more objective; the person goes forth out
of himself,--lets his own light beam forth toward the divine original
light, even as the flame of the sacrifice, when once kindled by the
heavenly fire, mounts up toward heaven again. All worshiping of God
presupposes faith, though it is itself more than faith. When man has by
faith received the divine into himself, and imbued himself therewith,
he still yet distinguishes himself as a creature from God,--puts
himself into moral relation to God, raises himself by a moral action to
God as to one different from himself; and this is the worshiping of
God. To the pure mystic all worship falls away, for he loses sight of
the distinction between the Infinite and the finite.
Worship is the immediate actual outgoing of faith; it is a religious
activity which aims at making the already naturally-existing communion
of God with us into a consciously-willed communion of ourselves with
God; it is a sacred activity as distinguished from the worldly or
profane,--from that which deals only with temporal things. In a normal
moral condition of humanity, all activity whatever would bear a sacred
character, and the distinction between the sacred and the "profane"
could only assume the form of a conditional outward difference of a
temporally-alternating occupation with earthly things, on the one hand,
and with eternal interests on the other; with labor and with the
Sabbath-rest of the soul during the continuance of the earthly life,
and that, too, only in so far as consistent with the fact that all
earthly occupation is constantly exalted and sanctified by a positive
and conscious relation to the eternal. Our sacred activity relates
either immediately to God,--is a purely affirmative uniting of the
human to the divine; or it relates only mediately to God, but
immediately to the ungodly, namely, in that by refusing the ungodly, it
sets up a barrier against it,--turns the heart away from the evil, and
toward God. These two features can never be separated; prayer without
sacrifice, without a rejecting of the ungodly both within and without
us, is morally impossible; in exalting ourselves to God in prayer we at
the same time distinguish the divine from the anti-divine, and withdraw
ourselves from the latter; we cannot truly pray without at the same
time renouncing the worldly,--without giving up, without sacrificing,
the pretentious emptiness of finite things.
SECTION CXV.
1. Prayer, as resting on faith in the personal God, is the free moral
uniting of the believing heart with God, in such a manner that the
moral personality is in fact not lost, but, on the contrary, exalted in
and by God; it is the free and conscious recognizing that God knows all
our thoughts, and the joyful wish that such be the case; it exalts our
natural communion with God into a spiritual and moral one, the being of
God in man into a being of man in God. As it is alone in this being at
one with God that the true life of the rational spirit consists, hence
in the moral man, at least a prayerful disposition, if not express
praying in words, must be strictly unceasing. Prayer has only then
moral worth when it really springs of a praying heart, and hence, when
it is offered with devotion; and as it unites the person with the
Father of all men, hence it leads to a communion of prayer, and the
higher form of prayer is therefore social prayer.
In prayer man enters into personal communion with God, and in loving
confidence expressly communicates to him as the All-knowing One, his
pious thinking, feeling, and willing; only that which is pious can be
communicated to God; a consciously unpious prayer is blasphemy. Prayer
is absolutely conditioned on a believing recognition of the divine
omniscience; it is not, therefore, so much a means of making our
thoughts known to God,--for God knows our thoughts from afar, and of
what we have need before we ask therefor,--as rather an expression of
our belief that God knows, and our joyful willingness that he should
know thereof. A prayer that should spring from the thought that God
himself needed it in order to know our inward state, would be per se
impious and in self-contradiction; but every thought and every act that
we are not willing that God should know, and that we would hide from
him, is impious, and the degree of our piety is measured by the degree
in which we have the desire that all our acts and thoughts should be
known of God. The intermission of prayer does not shut out our inner
life from the divine knowledge, it simply shuts out the divine blessing
from us. Prayer reveals not our being to the divine knowledge, but it
reveals the divine all-knowing presence to us,--brings not God down to
us, but elevates us to God; it is for us the means of uniting ourselves
truly with God, inasmuch as thereby not only is God, as the Omnipresent
One, with us, but also we, by a religiously-moral act of will, are with
God; and only when God is himself with us, not merely naturally and
without our desire, but upon our express prayer and seeking therefor,
are we in real saving life-communion with him. Without prayer there can
be only a natural, but not a moral and spiritual communion with God;
and this merely natural communion is, on the supposition that it rises
no higher, in antagonism to the essence of a moral creature, and hence
leads to the casting off of man by God. For him who cannot pray, God's
presence is judicial and condemnatory. As in prayer man exalts himself
to the highest object of the moral activity, so is prayer also the
highest moral act; and all other moral action receives its moral worth
solely from its relation to this,--solely as morally consecrated by
prayer.
In prayer, man gives utterance to his highest moral privileges and to
his free personality, inasmuch as thereby, with full and joyful
freedom, he wills, recognizes and heightens that which already existed
without prayer, though indeed only in an immediate, natural ante-moral
manner, but which could not so remain without turning into antagonism
and unblessedness, namely, the divine omnipresent domination. Only to
those who desire it is God's presence a blessing, and only by those who
love is the loving communion of God experienced; "draw nigh to God, and
he will draw nigh to you" [James iv, 8; comp. Psa. cxlv, 18, 19]. It is
the sublime significancy of prayer that it brings into prominence man's
great and high destination, that it brings to expression his free
personal relation to God, that it heightens man's consciousness of his
true moral nature in relation to God; and as all morality depends on
our relation to God, prayer is, in fact, the very life-blood of
morality. The true freedom, and hence also the true morality of man,
manifests itself not in his arbitrarily choosing that which is fleeting
or baseless, but in the fact that with conscious free-will and glad
assent he recognizes and confirms that which lies in the holy
constitution of the world itself. To the limited natural understanding,
prayer seems useless and therefore irrational; for this understanding
is not capable of comprehending the spiritual. It is true, God causes
his sun to rise upon the good and the evil, gives rain to the just and
the unjust, furnishes food to man and beast,--in a word, He "gives to
all men their daily bread" even without prayer; but the significancy of
such prayer is the fact of our recognizing Him as the Giver of all, of
our receiving his gifts with thankfulness. That God's presence and
gifts be not only about us but also for us, that they become a blessing
to us, a bond of love between God and us, a living fountain of
godly-mindedness,--that they be not foreign to us, not in antagonism to
us, but in fact our own and in harmony with us,--that God's being in us
be also our being in God,--all this is the fruit of prayer.
Prayer is so intimately connected with the morally-religious life that
it appears, under some form, even among those nations where, because of
the relative ignoring of the personality of God, it has almost lost all
shadow of meaning, as, for example, in India. Greek and Roman
philosophers often introduce their disquisitions with prayers
(Socrates, Plato); the Romans prayed on occasion of all important
state-events, on the election of magistrates, the enactment of laws,
etc. Of course in heathen prayer there could never exist the proper
earnestness, inasmuch as the idea of God was always imperfect; no
heathen could ever pray as could a pious Israelite. The first real
opposing of prayer, if we except the frivolous Epicureans, was on the
part of Maximus of Tyre, a Platonist of the second century after
Christ; it was also opposed by Rousseau, though for very superficial
reasons (because the order of the universe could not be changed by
individual wishes), and, with astonishing lack of insight by Kant, who
even finds in the Lord's Prayer, as given by Christ, a very clear
suggestion to substitute in the place of all prayer simply a
determination to lead a good life (Relig. innerh., etc., 1794, p. 302).
In Pantheism the rejection of prayer as absurd, is a matter of
course.--The Scriptures present prayer as one of the most essential
moral requirements [Psa. cxlv, 18, 19; Matt. vii, 7; Mark xi, 24; James
i, 5 sqq.; 1 Tim. ii, 1-3; Eph vi, 18]. The injunction to pray without
ceasing [Luke xviii, 1-7; 1 Thess. v, 17; Rom. xii, 12; Col. iv, 2; 1
Tim. ii, 8; comp. Psa. lxiii, 7] implies the constant aspiring of our
heart to God as to Him whose will alone is our law, and who gives his
blessing to whatever is done in his name.--Where sin is not yet
dominant, any other than a devotional prayer is inconceivable. Devotion
in prayer is not merely the absence of distraction, but it is the
praying out of a true, earnest and upright heart-disposition. Devotion
cannot be required as a special duty, for it is necessarily included in
the very idea of prayer; the Scriptures simply allude to the
earnestness of prayer, and to the liability of self-deception in
well-meant prayer [Isa. xxix, 13; Psa. cxlv, 18; Matt. xv, 8; vi, 5-7;
James v, 16].
It is not as a merely moral, but as a religious, activity that prayer
leads to communion, for religion is essentially socializing, not
directly, however, but in virtue of the communion which it establishes
with God. Mere individual prayer has its proper justification as
bearing on the personal relation to God; it is in fact the primary and
most obvious form [Matt. vi, 6]; but prayer attains to its highest,
though never exclusive, character as the single-hearted prayer of the
believing communion or church-society. And this not simply because such
prayer hightens the feeling of the unitedness of the faithful, but
because, in virtue of the throwing off of personal isolation and of its
flowing out of the holy spirit which pervades the society, it has a
guarantee of greater purity, and consequently the promise of special
blessing [Matt. xviii, 20; Acts ii, 42; Eph. v, 19; Col. iii,
16].--Christ himself gives the moral pattern of prayer; he prayed out
of the full consciousness of life-communion with God, and consequently
with full confidence of being answered [Heb. v, 7]; he prayed often in
solitude [Matt. xiv, 23; xxvi, 36, 42; Mark vi, 32; Luke vi, 12; ix,
28], and often in the presence of others [Matt. xxvi, 39; John xi, 41
sqq.], and in communion with his disciples [John xvii, 1 sqq.].
SECTION CXVI.
All prayer is primarily, either expressly or in virtue of its necessary
presuppositions, a confession, a recognition of God as the
unconditional Lord, and as the all-knowing, all powerful and all-loving
Father. In as far as in it we are always conscious of ourselves as
loved by God, prayer is at the same time also thanksgiving. In so far
as in prayer we have respect not only to the past and present, but also
to the goal of moral effort, the realization of which we regard as not
in our own power independently of God, nor yet in an unfree
nature-necessity, but in the will of God as co-operating with us,
prayer becomes petition--the climax of the inner religiously-moral
life, wherein the true filial relation of man to God finds its
expression; and as the moral end is of a rational, and hence not merely
individual, character, consequently the petition is essentially also
intercession--the highest religious expression of our love to man. As
only the all-embracing wisdom of God is capable of fully seeing the
appropriateness of earthly things and relations to the attainment of
the highest good, hence the petition for earthly goods, though per se
entirely legitimate, can never be more than of a humbly conditional
character; and there is no petition other than that for the per se
unquestionably eternal good, that has no other condition than the
willing, believing obedience of the subject. The promise of answering
is based on the condition of believing and of humble confidence.
Prayer is per se a recognition of God,--it is adoration and confession
both to God as the all-ruling One, and also before God as the
all-knowing and holy One. In this recognizing confession itself, there
is involved a thanksgiving, which consequently is included, though it
may be but implicitly, in every prayer; in the Lord's Prayer it lies in
the very address. All thanksgiving [1 Sam. ii; Psa. cvi, 1; Rom. xv, 6;
1 Tim. iv, 4, 5; Phil. iv, 6; Col. iii, 17; iv, 2] is at the same time
a petition for the bestowal of the good for which it is offered; and
the petition is, in virtue of the soul-uniting filial relation to God,
necessarily also intercession for others and for the whole kingdom of
God [Matt. vi, 10; John xvii, 9 sqq.; Eph i, 16; vi, 18; 1 Tim. ii,
1-3; Col. i, 9; iv, 3; Phil. i, 4; James v, 16; Heb. xiii, 18]. So long
as prayer remains of a merely individual character, it comes short of
true prayer,--rests not yet on a consciousness of the filial relation
to God, for this consciousness is inconsistent with self-seeking
exclusiveness; the children of God have their home only in the kingdom
of God.
Prayer as petition is the profoundest enigma for the merely wordly
finitely-occupied understanding; for the religious heart, however, it
is the beginning and the center of the spiritual life. He who cannot
offer petitions to God is not of God. All intellectual doubts as to the
nature and efficacy of petitioning prayer, have as their back-ground a
doubt of the personality of God, although they may assume to be a
vindication of the eternal order of the world. A God who cannot answer
petitions is not a personal spirit, but only an unconscious
nature-force. In the believing petition the Scriptures promise answers
[Psa. 1, 15; x, 17; xxii, 4, 5; xxxiv, 15; lxii, 1 sqq.; lxv, 2; xciv,
9; cii, 17; cxlv, 18, 19; Prov. xv, 8; Isa. lxv, 24; Matt. vii, 7;
xviii, 19; xxi, 22; John ix, 31; xvi, 23, 24; 1 John iii, 22; v, 14;
James i, 5; iv, 8; v, 13-18; 1 Pet. iii, 12]; to the impious and
foolish petition they refuse it [Job xxvii, 9; xxxv, 13; Psa. lxvi, 18;
Prov. xv, 8, 29; xxviii, 9; Isa. i, 15; John ix, 31; James iv, 3, and
others]; and confident faith in an answer is itself the condition of
the answer [Mark xi, 24; James i, 6, 7]. As the fuller development of
the subject belongs to dogmatics, we here subjoin but a few general
observations. The answering of prayer is not unconditional; it is
conditioned, on the one hand, on the loving wisdom of God, which is
higher than that of man [Eph. iii, 20], and, on the other, on the
prayer-spirit of him who prays. And the answer is not a merely seeming
one, so that prayer would be superfluous, but the answer is given on
the basis and in virtue of the prayer [Luke xi, 5-13; xviii, 1
sqq.,--the lesson of which is, that if earnest prayer is effectual even
with unloving men, how much more is it so with the all-loving One who
gladly hears such petitions; Gen. xviii, 23 sqq.; Exod. xxxii, 9 sqq.;
Num. xiv, 13 sqq., 20; xvi, 20 sqq.; Isa. xxxviii]. Prayer does not
change the eternal counsel of God; this counsel is itself not
unconditional, but it is determined by the all-knowing One in view of
the free conduct of his creatures; and, consequently, one element of it
is, that prayer is eternally destined to be answered. Every pious
prayer is answered, although only in the manner most wholesome to him
who offers it, and hence not always in the special manner in which the
answer is expected [2 Cor. xii, 8, 9.] If man deceives himself as to
the sought good, still he receives the good,--not, however, the false
one which he had in mind, but the true one which he had in heart. Hence
no believing prayer, in so far as it relates to earthly goods, can be
or should be more than a conditional petition, and the manner of the
fulfillment must be submitted to the wisdom of God. If even Christ
prays in this conditional manner to the Father [Matt. xxvi, 39, 42;
Luke xxii, 42], by how much more should man so pray, whose knowledge is
so limited; true faith is in fact a confidence that God knows best what
serves for our peace, and brings it about; childlikeness and humble
confidence give power and truth to prayer [Rom. viii, 15; Gal. iv, 6].
Under this condition, prayer for particular earthly goods is not only
allowed to man, but is also willed by God and with promise of answering
[Matt. vi, 11; vii, 7 sqq.; Phil. iv, 5, 6; Eph. vi, 18; James v, 14
sqq.]; and the confidence of obtaining the object sought, even in such
special petitions rises to confident assurance wherever the prayer goes
forth from a complete life-communion with God, and in the, power of the
Holy Ghost,--wherever it is prayer "in spirit and in truth" [John iv,
24; Rom. viii, 26, 27; Gal. iv, 6; Eph. vi, 18; comp. John xiv, 13;
xvi, 23]; for, the more complete the union of the pious heart with God,
so much the more does it partake of the illuminating power of God, and
God's knowledge of the future begets in him who partakes of God's
Spirit a presentiment of the divine counsel in regard to him; and the
presentiment rises to a prayerful longing, an unshaken faith; and the
true petition to a prophecy. The fulfillment of the petition is felt by
anticipation in the prayer itself; he who truly prays is a prophet; and
God is the fulfiller of the prophecy, because he is the author of the
counsel. Here also Christ himself furnishes the pattern: "Father, I
thank thee that thou hast heard me," etc. [John xi, 41]; his prayer
related to what he had already prophetically beholden and predicted
[verses 11, 23]. The primary and most essential element of true prayer
is, of course, the petition for the filial relation to God and for the
coming of the kingdom of God [Matt. vi, 10, 12; John xvii, 15; Luke xi,
13]. Man should beware, however, of sinning in prayer itself; but by
self-seeking narrowness he does this; to pray in the spirit of God, is
to pray for the kingdom of God. Model prayers are the Lord's Prayer and
the high-priestly prayer of Christ.
As God's eternal decree to answer prayer is conditioned on the
actuality of the prayer, hence prayer is not simply moral
appropriation, but also, though not in a direct and strict sense, moral
forming, seeing that, though indeed not God himself, yet in fact the
particular temporal manifestation of his world-government, is
conditioned on prayer. God's essence is indeed not subject to change;
his doing and acting in the world, however, are, in virtue of his
righteous love, conditioned on the free conduct of his rational
creatures, and hence also on prayer. The real forming, however, which
is directly connected with prayer relates to the personal
religiously-moral being of the subject. The blessing efficacy of prayer
beams back from God upon the offerer, namely, in that in virtue of the
prayer not only his being in God comes more vividly to his
consciousness, and has a more efficacious influence, but also God's
being in him comes to a higher reality. Faith in prayer and in the
answering of prayer, heighten the divine life of the children of God.
SECTION CXVII.
2. The negating and rather virtual phase of the service of God, is the
actual or symbolical manifesting of the real or conditional vanity of
earthly things and relations, as contrasted with God or with the
God-loving, pious state of the heart, namely, in sacrifice, the essence
of which is self-denial or renunciation. In the unfallen state of man
sacrifice consists essentially simply in a free giving-up of that which
is naturally pleasurable, out of regard to the divine will and far the
sake of the higher good, the moral end; hence it consists in the
subordinating and giving up of earthly desire. The appropriating of the
divine requires the rejection of all that is ungodly, and therein the
person accomplishes, at the same time, a high moral culture of himself.
As contrasted with the highest good and with God, every thing finite
appears as relatively empty and void; the actual manifesting of this
nullity, out of love to the divine, is sacrifice,--a notion that is
fundamental to all religions, and that constitutes the focal point of
all religious life, and which is still recognizable even in the most
utter perversions of the truth. [13] There is no love without
sacrifice; the higher the love, so much the higher the readiness to
sacrifice for the sake of the beloved; sacrifice is the test of love;
maternal love sacrifices repose and enjoyment for the sake of the
child; this is not figurative language,--the sacrifice is real and
true. As God's highest love expresses itself in the giving up of his
Son, so man's love to God is manifested in the sacrificing of that to
the enjoyment of which man has in general a right. As, however, in the
sinless state of humanity, there would exist no really untrue and vain
object from which man would have actually to turn away in moral
abhorrence, but only a merely relatively such, namely, the merely
natural and transitory as in contradistinction to the spiritual, hence
in this case sacrifice would not consist in the destruction of an
entity, but in the renunciation of an enjoyment, an abstaining from the
merely worldly. In the interest of his spiritual freedom, of his moral
growth, man is not to give himself over to nature, but must by
obedience renounce some degree of the enjoyment of nature and of his
personal discretion. He is to sacrifice whatever tempts him from God,
whatever binds him to the merely natural or to the non-divine; also of
unfallen man it was required that he should realize his spiritual
freedom by the free renunciation of a merely natural enjoyment.
Christ's fasting in the wilderness was not a part of his atoning
self-sacrifice, and yet it was a sacrifice on the part of the Son of
man, even as was also required of unfallen man. In yielding himself to
enjoyment without moral discrimination, man loses hold on the
spiritual; lie must renounce in order to be free. In the unfallen state
sacrifice has essentially an educative end and a symbolical form. God
certainly did not forbid man to eat of the designated tree because it
was a bad tree, for to sinless beings there could be nothing evil in
the entire circle of God-made nature; but in his educative wisdom, God
required of man a sacrifice, for the simple reason that no moral life
is possible without self-restraint, no religious life without
sacrifice. Man stands in the presence of nature and God, both are good;
but nature is a created object and may not be placed on an equal
footing with God. When man enjoys nature for its own sake and without
reference to God, he sins; for he ought to belong, not to nature, but
to God. Hence he should recognize, and manifest in moral acts, the
truth that nature per se is not the true being and the true goal of
moral aspiration, namely, the highest good, but only a means to this
end. Hence his moral relation to nature and to the sensuous, is, as in
contrast to his relation to God, of a negative character. This "no" in
regard to nature, man pronounces morally when he subordinates his
relation to nature to his higher relation to God, when he says to
sensuous desire: "Thou mayest not, shalt not absorb and dominate my
thinking and willing;" he must freely hold in check the merely
sensuous, for the sake of the spiritual,--must restrain himself from
the former in order that he may possess and perfect himself as a moral
spirit, and that he may rise to spiritual-mindedness.
It is the antagonism of the spirit to the flesh that lies at the basis
of sacrifice; in the interest of the spiritual, the spirit sacrifices
the fleshly. Also man as normal and not yet sinful, had to crucify his
flesh with the affections and lusts thereof [Gal. v, 24], although this
flesh and its desires were not yet immoral; but to have sought the
flesh as an end, as a good, would have been sinful; and God put upon
him a requirement of abnegation in order that he might recognize and
actually learn this fact,--that he might break away from the merely
sensuous, and develop in himself the image of God. Simple obedience to
this requirement, without a why or wherefore, was the purest and best
of sacrifices. This Paradisaical germ of all sacrifice is, therefore,
self-denial in obedience to God, a renouncing not a destroying, a
giving up, out of love to the spirit, of that which is dear to the
flesh; and this idea pervades all forms of sacrifice, even the emphatic
sin-offering; only that which is dear to man can be to him a sacrifice;
and because of the simple fact that the first man would not bring the
light sacrifice required of him, it became necessary for him afterward
to make severer ones; and from the hour of the fall and thenceforth the
morally-religious consciousness of humanity finds satisfaction only in
a series of progressively more violent and more terrible sacrifices,
culminating in the offering of human victims, and that too not merely
among the rude, but even among the most civilized of gentile nations.
In the idea of sacrifice it is always implied that that which the
person gives up is per se good and right, that primarily lie has a
right to its enjoyment, but that he gives it up for the sake of a
higher end; to give up that which is per se bad, is not to sacrifice;
the offering that was presented to Jehovah had to be pure and spotless;
and the worth of the sacrifice rises with the worth of the object
offered. Thus, sensuous enjoyment is per se good, but it must be
restrained and limited, and often refused, in order that not it but the
rational spirit may be the master. But man has also to bring, in the
interest of the moral, purely spiritual sacrifices. It was not the
sensuous per se that was the temptation to Eve, but the representation
made to her that the tree would render her "wise;" it was her duty, as
it is the duty of man in general, to renounce the desire of obtaining
from the creature that wisdom which only God can impart--which can be
learned only in believing obedience to God.
The sacrifice that was required of unfallen man implied in its
renunciation at the same time, a confession, namely, to God as the
highest good and the highest love, and this again implied thankfulness
for the love received in communion with God. Inasmuch as every good
gift is from God hence the thank-offering of the believer can only be
symbolical, expressive of his readiness to give up in the interest of
the eternal even that which is dearest of all to him, in the
consciousness that in the communion with God for whom it is given up,
the real and true life is in fact preserved; in the presence of God
none is to appear empty [Exod. xxiii, 15; xxxiv, 20].
Sacrifice appears in the Old Testament in its more definite form as
early as in the case of Cain and Abel; we find no indication of its
express institution by God; and we might therefore regard it as an
immediate and natural expression of the religious consciousness;
however, a positive divine prescription is the more probable. It is
certainly not probable that sacrifice was first made from a
consciousness of guilt; the offerings of Cain and Abel, consisting of
the products of the field and of the flock, seem rather to be
thank-offerings than sin-offerings; Abel's bloody offering is expressly
designated [Gen. iv, 4] by the word minchah (present, gift) by which
are subsequently designated the bloodless thank-offerings in
contradistinction to the bloody, and, for the most part, atoning
offerings, namely, the sebachim; the offering of Noah appears expressly
as a thank-offering [viii, 20] The burning up of the material of the
sacrifice signifies the renunciation and the eradication of the earthly
desires of him who sacrifices; the pure heavenward-mounting sacrificial
flame symbolizes the exaltation of the heart from the earthly to the
heavenly,--the union with God. Thus sacrifice becomes a symbol of the
alliance of man with God; and in the case of Noah and the patriarchs, a
sign of the Covenant, and hence also a sign of the union of the
Israelites who escaped from Egypt, into one people [Exod. iii, 12].
And, therefore, subsequently in the fully-developed sacrificial service
of a sinful people, the essence of the sacrifice was in fact not placed
in the outward rite, but in the submission of the heart, in the
renunciation of an earthly self-seeking mind, in the complete giving up
of all earthly love for God's sake [Gen. xxii, 16]; obedience is better
than [outward] sacrifice; God-pleasing sacrifices are a broken spirit
and a contrite heart, and "to do justice and judgment is more
acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice" [1 Sam. xv, 22; Psa. xl, 6; 1,
8-15; li, 16, 17, 18; Hos. vi, 6; Eccl. iv, 17; Prov. xxi, 3, 27; Isa.
i, 11; Jer. vi, 20; comp. Matt. ix, 13; xii, 7; Mark xii, 33]. In the
case of the very first sacrifices God warns man against the error of
supposing that the essence of the sacrifice lies in the outward act;
Abel's offering He graciously accepts, that of Cain He disregards.
Sacrifice is an appropriating of the divine, inasmuch as in the turning
away from the non-divine there is necessarily implied a turning to the
divine.
SECTION CXVIII.
The moral sparing of the divine, has direct reference not to God
himself; but to the forms under which He is revealed. Every thing
whereby God becomes for us is sacred as distinguished from merely
created objects per se. In the unfallen state of humanity all created
objects are at the same time also sacred, namely, in so far as they are
considered an expression of the divine will; and whatever is sacred is
in the highest degree an object of moral sparing,--should be treated as
sacred. This sparing springs from moral humility,--is an express
respecting of the sacred in virtue of a holy awe, springing from a
lively consciousness, on the one hand, of the divine glory even in the
humbler forms of its manifestation, and, on the other, of our own
existence as a limited one and as resting solely on divine grace. The
objects of this sacred awe, and hence of moral sparing, are both the
immediate, full and actual self-revelations of God, and also all
mediating instrumentalities of His revelation and communication, as
well as also every thing that relates to the reverencing of God on the
part of man.
The distinction between the sacred and the non-sacred is, for the
unfallen state, of a merely conditional character; it is in fact,
simply the same thing considered under two phases; in all things we can
behold both the created and the Creator. He who is truly pious sees
himself every-where surrounded by the sacred,--he prays to God not
merely in the temple of Jerusalem, or on Mount Gerizim, but every-where
in spirit and in truth. Now, in so far as objects that are imbued with
the divine are temporal and finite, they are capable of being abused
and desecrated,--hence the moral duty of sparing. The direction of God
to Moses on occasion of the revelation in the burning bush [Exod. iii,
5], suggests the proper moral bearing of man; he must put away from
himself all that bears upon itself the character of the common, the
unholy, the dross of earth. The duty of sparing, as relating to the
sacred, is not. a mere non-doing, but, like every other form of this
duty, it is a self-restraining out of regard to the higher right of the
sacred object; a sparing from mere indifference would be sinful.
The objects of this sparing are: (1) The immediate personal revelations
of God himself. Here there is no room for a mere passive bearing; here
the mere non-doing, the mere not respecting the divine presence, is an
offending of God himself; and moral sparing passes over at once into
adoring reverence; here the declaration of Christ holds good: "He that
is not for me is against me;" the not-concerning ourselves about God is
a dishonoring of God.--(2) God's revelation and self-communication
through his Word should be recognized as absolutely sacred, and
distinguished in every respect from whatever is merely human and
natural; it is disesteemed and dishonored by doubt, unbelief, and
disobedience, and by trifling or irreverent use, by ridicule or
neglect; the divine Word as sacred is to be treated entirely
differently from the merely human; it calls for unconditional faith and
reverent submission.--(3) The name of God [Exod. iii, 14] and other
symbolical designations of God must be treated with sacred awe and
sparing,--may not be associated with the common and thus subjected to
irreverent use, may not be misused in sport, or frivolity, or for
deception [Exod. xx, 7; Lev. xix, 12; xxii, 32; Matt. vi, 9]. A name is
not a mere empty sound; it is the body of a thought; and as the human
body is not an object of indifference for the spirit, and as to
dishonor it is to insult the spirit, so also is a misusing of the
divine name a dishonoring of God himself. In the awe of the Jews as to
the pronouncing of the name of Jehovah, there lay a deep moral
significancy, though indeed this peculiarity rendered also possible an
outward evasion of the command itself. That the precept to revere God's
name appears as one of the chief commandments of the Mosaic law,
evinces its high moral importance. Where there exists reverential love,
there the name of the beloved will not be desecrated by triflingness
and frivolous sport. And what is true of the name is also true of all
symbols of God, as, for example, in the Ancient Covenant, of the
covering of the ark of the Covenant (the mercy-seat), of the pillar of
fire, etc. In a more general sense every form of sin is a dishonoring
of the name and image of God, inasmuch as man himself bears God's name
and image in himself, and should therefore spare and respect these in
his own person [comp. Rom. ii, 24]; and all morality may be summed up
in the keeping sacred of the divine image in ourselves,--as expressed
by Jehovah: "Ye shall sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I am holy"
[Lev. xi, 44], or in the words of Peter: "Sanctify the Lord God in your
hearts" [1 Pet. iii, 15].--(4) The human organs of divine revelation,
the prophets and the called heralds of the divine Word in general, have
a moral right to reverential sparing, though this sparing refers
essentially not to them as men, but to God in whose name they speak.
[Psa. cv, 15; Matt. x, 40, 41; comp. xi, 49-51; 1 Thes. v, 12, 13; Heb.
xiii, 17]; the persecuting and killing of the prophets is frequently
spoken of in Scripture as among the most heinous of offenses. Also in a
sinless development of humanity all those would be regarded in the
light of prophets of God, who, having attained to higher spiritual
knowledge, should bear witness of divine truth; they would stand not
strictly on an equal footing with those whom they should teach and
train; and their recognition as divine messengers would beget a greater
willingness to give heed to them. Wherever there is a really moral
communion, there the ministers of God are honored; not to respect them
is a sign of deep moral declension; but the deepest degradation of all
is where they themselves do not respect their calling. No prophet of
God was ever without moral self-denial and constant humiliation before
God,--without the deeply felt consciousness of Moses: "Who am I that I
should go unto Pharaoh, and bring forth the children of Israel out of
Egypt?"--but also no prophet of God was ever without the sacred right
to be recognized and respected as God's messenger, provided only that
he be found faithful.--(5) All that relates to the worshiping of
God,--the holy seasons, places, and things, are, as sacred, to be
distinguished from the non-sacred, and to be honored accordingly, and
not to be placed on an equal footing with that which serves only
temporal, individual ends. The Sabbath is to be treated quite otherwise
than the day of labor; it has a right to be respected, for it is God's
day, set apart to his special service. Its celebration by actual divine
worship is only one of its phases, the other is its being sacredly
spared. Every thing is to be avoided on the Sabbath which disturbs the
devout frame of the soul,--attracts it back to the merely earthly and
sensuous, impresses upon it a mere every-day character. lie who does
not honor the day of the Lord, honors also not the Lord of the day.
Holy places and things, being consecrated to heavenly purposes, should
not be profaned to worldly entertainment and to merely temporal uses.
Though we do not recognize any mystic power in a special consecration,
yet we hold fast to the principle that holy places and things belong
exclusively to the service of the Lord. God himself ordained, in the
Old Testament, particular sacred things and a special consecration of
them [Exod. xxv, sqq.; xxx, 22 sqq.]. Even as the "burning bush" [Exod.
iii, 5] and the mount of legislation and the holy of holies in the
temple were separated from all that was not sacred, so also is it with
every place that is dedicated to the holy One [Lev. xix, 30]. The
significancy of this setting apart, and the importance of this
respecting of the sacred, increase with the actuality of sin.
Note. God cannot of course be an object of moral forming in the strict
sense of the word. Though prayer is in fact a moral influencing of God,
inasmuch as it finds hearing, still no change is thereby wrought in
God, and that which is realized by the efficacy of prayer is not so
much in God as in us and in the world. But in a remote sense we may
speak of a forming of the divine, namely, in so far as God is expressed
in sacred symbols and in sacred art, and in so far as, by our
witnessings for God, the knowledge and love of God are implanted in the
souls of men; all this, however, is in reality simply a forming of the
finite and the human into an image of God, and not a forming of God
himself.
II. THE MORAL ACTIVITY, IN RELATION TO THE MORAL PERSON HIMSELF.
SECTION CXIX.
(a) The duty of moral sparing is here the preserving of one's own
existence and of its normal peculiarity and development, as prompted by
a consciousness of the divine will, and hence also the warding off of
all therewith-conflicting and disturbing or destroying influences on
the part of nature or of the spiritual world. To this end it is
necessary that in all things the true relation of the body, as a
serving power, to the rational spirit, as the dominating power, be
preserved, and that the image of God, which though originally inherent
in man. is yet in need of fuller development, be preserved pure even in
its corporeally-symbolical manifestation.
The moral sparing of one's self is the higher moral application of a
law that pervades the entire totality of being. That which is cohesion
in a nature-body, and the law of gravitation in the natural world in
general, and the instinct of self-defense and of self-preservation in
the animal world, becomes with man a moral duty. When man seeks to
preserve himself, to ward off injury and death, out of mere natural
instinct, his action is not yet moral; it becomes moral only when it
springs from a consciousness that it is God's will,--that God has
pleasure in our existence as his own creative work, that He has a
purpose in us which we are morally to fulfill. Of a duty of
self-destruction there can never be any possibility; and for a duty of
entire self-sacrifice, of the giving up of life for the sake of a
higher end, there is, in a state of sinlessness, also no possibility;
otherwise the divine government would be in anarchy. God who gave
existence to man wills also its preservation,--has willed it as a moral
end, and not simply as a means to an end. Death is simply the wages of
sin, and not a condition of virtue, save alone where on account of sin
there is need of a sacrifice.
In a sinless state the duty of self-sparing is of easy fulfillment,
partly for the reason that it corresponds to a natural law immanent in
all living creatures, and partly because disturbing influences are
conceivable only where they are occasioned by the fault of man
himself,--for example, when he presumptuously exposes himself to such
natural influences as he is not yet able to resist,--which is in fact
possible seeing that, also for the unfallen state, the complete mastery
over nature is presented as a condition yet to be attained to by moral
effort. Also from the influence of spiritual beings an injuring of the
moral person is possible, so long as the rational creature has not as
yet attained to its ultimate perfection, so that here also there is
place for the duty of watchfulness, in order that the diverse
personalities that are as yet in process of development may not act
hinderingly upon each other. And this duty of sparing watchfulness is
still more increased when the moral person stands no longer in the
presence of simply sin-free beings, but is assaulted by spiritual
temptation, as in the case of Adam and Eve; here the duty of
self-preserving sparing assumes at once the form of a positive warding
off.--In the Scriptures the duty of sparing one's self, even in
relation to the corporeal life, is presented as per se strictly valid;
"no man ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth and cherisheth it,
even as the Lord the church" [Eph. v, 29]. Man is also to exercise this
duty of sparing in view of his own possible sinning; in protecting his
moral innocence, man protects also the image of God as created in him.
SECTION CXX.
(b) Moral appropriating is, as regards the moral person himself,
directly at the same time also a moral forming of the person into a
progressively more perfect expression of the moral idea,--into a
personally-peculiar realization of the moral end; and in proportion as
the moral person appropriates to itself its own self, puts itself into
possession of itself, it accomplishes upon itself also a moral forming.
(1) Not the body is to appropriate to itself the spirit, but the spirit
is progressively more and more to appropriate to itself the body, and
to form it, and thereby also to form itself; hence the spirit alone is
the appropriating factor, and the body is simply to be appropriated and
formed. Even as nature stands to God in a twofold relation, namely, in
that, on the one hand, God accomplishes his will in it, makes it good,
and, on the other, reveals himself through it, makes it into his image,
into an object of beauty, so also has the body in relation to the
spirit the twofold destination of being its organ and its image; the
former it becomes essentially by particular forming, the latter by
general forming (S:S: 109, 110).
(a) The body is formed and appropriated to itself by the spirit as its
true absolutely subservient organ, in that (1) it is strengthened and
rendered apt in accomplishing every service for the rational will,
through the mediating and carrying out of all appropriating and forming
action of the rational spirit as bearing upon the external world; (2)
in that, in its sensuous impulses, it is held under the discipline of
the spirit, and is never allowed to have an independent right for
itself; in both these respects realizes itself the complete domination
of the spirit over the body.
It is characteristic of the true moral nature of man, that he is
capable, not merely, as is the case with the brute, of appropriating
and forming external objects, but also himself. The brute is formed by
nature, not by itself, and it appropriates to itself only nature, but
not itself; but man in his first-given condition does not as yet really
have himself, but must first learn to possess himself,--must attain to
moral ownership of himself.
Man virtualizes his god-likeness primarily in this, that he glorifies
God even in his body as the temple of the Holy Ghost [1 Cor. vi, 19,
20], and that he presents this body to God as a living, holy, and
well-pleasing sacrifice [Rom. xii, 1.] The preliminary manifold
dependence of the spirit on the body, and through the body also on
external nature, is to be overcome and changed into spiritual freedom;
the spirit is itself to make the body truly its own body, to
appropriate it to itself as a moral possession, to form it into the
perfect organ of the spirit,--in a certain sense, to create it
spiritually. The original foreignness of the body to the spirit is to
be overcome; its as yet partially-actual independence is to be broken;
the body is to be thoroughly permeated by the spirit, and all that is
merely objective and unfree in it, to be done away with. The dominion
of the spirit over nature, which is set before it as a moral goal, is
to realize itself first on its own nature, that is, on the body. That
this is a moral task is plainly indicated by nature itself. The brute
is much earlier self-supporting and mature than man, and needs no
training in order to attain to its greatest skill; all the skill that
man attains to he has to get by learning, to acquire by moral effort;
and all learning is an appropriating through consciousness; man must in
some manner first comprehend his body, before he can really form it and
take it under his control; he who is spiritually dull usually remains
also physically clumsy; man as coming from the hands of nature is the
most helpless and most unskillful of creatures; all that he ever
becomes is by the spirit,--by free moral activity; that his nascent
life is much more helpless than that of any of the animals, is simply
an incident of his high moral dignity. That which he has from nature is
indeed good, but if it remains as mere unspiritualized, undominated
nature, then it becomes for him evil,--becomes something of which he is
to be ashamed. This rendering the body skillful is a
personally-particular forming--a working of the spirit upon the body;
thereby the spirit forms the body into its own true possession; it
aspires to have it for itself, to have it entirely in its control.
Herein consists also the true particular appropriating, the enjoying,
of the body; man enjoys it when he has it fully in his power. This is
the secret of the rich enjoyment of young persons, when, in free
corporeal movement, in skillful playing, in skating, in rhythmical
muscular action, etc., they feel themselves masters over their bodies;
it is the consciousness of freedom, of acquired mastery; for, all
consciousness of mastery is a feeling of happiness, and that, too, a
per se legitimate one.
Man is to form and appropriate to himself his body in two respects; for
as a spirit lie stands to the outer world in the double relation of
receiving and of influencing,--through the senses and through the
organs of motion. The cultivation of the senses is more an
appropriating than a real forming; the senses must first be brought
under the control of the spirit; the seaman and the huntsman have not
always a really sharper natural eye than others, but their seeing is
more skilled,--they see many objects from which others may indeed
receive exactly the same light-impressions, but yet not actually
perceive them, for the reason that they overlook them; seeing is an
art, and many, though with open eyes, see comparatively little. An
uncultured person hears, in a beautiful piece of music, little more
than confused sounds, for the reason that he does not know how to hear.
It is a moral duty of man to develop his senses to perfection, fully to
appropriate them to himself, for they were given to him by God as
channels through which to appropriate to himself the outer world; and
it is unthankfulness to God for man to be willing to see and hear
little or nothing in God's nature,--for him to have no open eyes for
the glory of God as resplendent in creation, and no ear for the
beautiful harmonies of nature and art. Rudeness and unculture are
sinful in every respect, and hence also in respect to the senses.
The appropriating training of the organs of motion to vigorous
skillfulness, not merely as a pleasure but also as a duty, is brought
about under normal circumstances not so much by calculating art as by
spontaneous natural activity; and it takes place chiefly during youth.
While it was an error of many former educators entirely to neglect the
training of the body to skillfulness and grace, still, on the other
hand, there is danger of overestimating the worth of regulated
gymnastics. The unnatural physical life of our city populations may
render necessary a systematic process of corporeal exercise,
notwithstanding its manifold unesthetic and even repulsive
joint-wrenchings; but where the young people can have scope for
indulging in more natural and frolicksome muscular recreation, regular
gymnastics are doubtless quite superfluous; the learned cramming of
overcrowded schools needs them indeed as a sanitary complement, but it
is dangerous to substitute mere medicine for daily bread. It is a
morbid condition of society, when that to which nature itself prompts
us has to be made a school-requirement.
The complete subordinating of the sensuous impulses to the discipline
of the spirit, that is, the training of the body by the spirit to
temperateness in respect to all sensuous enjoyments, and to such
activity as is necessary to its being a proper organ for the spirit, is
also, at the same time, an appropriating and a forming; the members are
to be formed into "instruments of righteousness unto God" [Rom. vi, 12,
13]. Paul represents the complete dependence of the body on the moral
spirit as a dependence, not on the merely individual spirit, but on the
spirit as morally subordinating itself to God. Man, as consecrated to
God, is not to permit the per se legitimate caring for his body to
become a fostering of the sensuous desires [Rom. xiii, 13, 14], but is
strictly to subordinate the nurturing of the body and the indulgence in
sensuous enjoyments to the rational purposes of the moral spirit, so
that they shall simply be means for the spirit and never ends, in
themselves [Luke xxi, 34; Rom. xiv, 17; Eph. v, 18; 1 Thess. v, 6; 1
Tim. iii, 2; Tit. ii, 1 sqq.; 1 Pet. iv, 7, 8]. Temperateness, however,
does not imply the taking of the least possible quantity of food and
drink, nor indeed indifference to the sensuous pleasures of the table;
this would in fact be unthankfulness toward the goodness of God who has
prepared for us also this pleasure; it does, however, require the
observance of that measure which is conditioned on the needs and health
of the body, and on the properly understood social relations of the
person. Excessive indulgence is not only a degradation of the person
himself, but also uncharitableness toward the destitute.
SECTION CXXI.
(b) The body is to be formed into an image or symbol of the rational
spirit,--to become a revelation of the spirit in the external world;
that is, it is to be shaped into an object of beauty, into a
spiritualized expression of the moral personality. This takes place:
(1) immediately,--in that the body, without the express and conscious
activity of the person, is formed into a true expression of the
morally-cultured spirit; (2) mediately,--in that the body, which though
per se possessing the highest nature-beauty, is yet not to remain in
simply that state, is formed by means of a spiritually-expressive
characterizing adornment into an expression of artistic beauty,--into a
symbolical expression not merely of the spiritual in general, but also
of the personally-moral character in particular,--and in that, with
moral carefulness, it is kept free from whatever would present it in
the light of an object that is disesteemed or given over to natural
unfreedom, and cast off by the spirit,--the virtue of cleanliness.
Adornment, both under its positive and its negative phase, is a moral
duty, not merely out of regard to others, as the true moral
presentation and revelation of self to others, but also out of regard
to the moral person himself.
The natural perfection of the body is not yet the true,--is to be
exalted from natural beauty to spiritual. As the spirit (exists
primarily only in a germinal form, hence the body cannot, from the very
beginning, bear the full impress of the same; the spiritual expression
of the body is at first not that of the personally-formed, but only of
the as yet impersonal, spirit in general. The expression of the
countenance becomes really spiritual, truly beautiful, only by and
through a personal character-development, which is, in turn, reflected
back from this personal peculiarity. The spirit must already have
behind it a moral history, before it comes to expression in the
features. A general beauty without character, is meaningless; a
personally-spiritual beauty is winning and magnetic. The body becomes
truly beautiful only through the complete appropriating of the same by,
and for, the spirit; and the true secret of beauty consists in a
genuine spiritual and moral culture. Where falseness has not yet gained
firm foothold, there the countenance is the mirror of the soul; and,
for the skilled look, even disguising falseness is transparent. There
lies at the basis of "physiognomics" a deep truth; but this truth is
not expressible in definite words and lines. It is not by mere chance
that for certain historic personalities, such as those of Christ and
the more prominent of the apostles, certain very definite forms and
casts of countenance have found their place in Christian art, and by
which every one recognizes them at first glance. The true
character-expression of the cultured body is, in some sense,
spirit-imbued,--is sensuous and supersensuous at the same time; neither
words, nor outlines, nor even the photographic pencil of nature, is
capable of reproducing it, but only the spirit-guided hand of the
artist; spirit is recognized and grasped only by spirit; no photograph
of a spiritual, character-imbued face attains to the fidelity of an
artistic portrait. In a sinless state, the beauty of the spirit would
necessarily reveal itself in beauty of body. So also must it have been
in the case of Christ,--and the erroneous notion that for a time
prevailed in the early church, to the effect that in Christ there had
been no physical comeliness, was soon dissipated by the correct
consciousness of Christian art. The heavenly soul of Christ must have
depicted itself in his countenance [comp. Psa. xlv, 3]; and the reason
why the children approached Him with glad confidence and shouted:
"Hosanna!" is doubtless because of a direct impression which Christ's
person made upon them; children have a wonderful capacity for reading
character in the external appearance. Female vanity, in laying such
great stress on corporeal beauty, is guilty simply of applying to
sinfully-perverted reality, the thought, that is correct for the
unfallen state of humanity, namely, that beauty of body is evidence of
a beautiful soul. The moral task in relation to this culture of bodily
expression, is, happily, not an immediate intentional forming of the
body, but rather the moral forming of the soul, which then, in turn, of
itself impresses itself on the body.
The ornamentation of the body, including the exclusion of all
uncleanliness, is a very important moral duty, and one that is very
definitely emphasized in the Scriptures. On the subject of nudity and
clothing, there has been, both from the moral and from the artistic
stand-point, much disputing. Greek art, in its golden age, represented
some of the gods nude; at a later period, when it had stooped to the
service of worldliness rather than of religion, it expressed itself
predominantly in the nude. Still, however, only such gods appear nude
as represent a certain degree of moral and spiritual unripeness or
sensuousness; Jupiter, Juno, Minerva, appear almost always draped; for
spiritually-developed and historical characters, also among human
beings, nudity was an artistic impossibility. This suggests the true
law in the case. Nudity represents merely the naturally-beautiful, not
the spiritually-beautiful, merely the human in general, not the
personal in particular,--is that which is alike in all persons, not
that in which they spiritually differ. That portion of the body which
does not express the merely general, that is, the countenance, is, in
fact, uniformly left free of clothing. The very sense for the
morally-spiritual gives even a stronger expression to the personal
through the medium itself of clothing. Who could bear the thought of a
nude Caesar or Homer! Christian art rejected the nude, for the good
reason that it had spiritual characters to represent. Moreover, mere
nudity is artistically beautiful only in the form of lust-repellent,
colorless sculpture; in painting it becomes licentious and, therefore,
un-beautiful. It is a very false opinion, that clothing really conceals
beauty; clothing, as an expression of the spiritual, as a free artistic
creation, is in fact the higher beauty. This appears very clearly when
man is represented not as an individual, but in groups; a
bathing-place, swarming with nude figures, presents assuredly no
beautiful spectacle, even if they were so many Apollos; precisely where
man appears in his higher truth, namely, in society, there a beautiful
scene is presented only by the help of diversified,
character-expressive clothing. It is true, clothing is beautiful only
where it is really expressive of a character, whether of the nation or
of the person. The slavish copying after journals of fashion, is
evidence of a want of sense and of character, and of a lack of esthetic
perception.
Clothing did not first become necessary because of sin. The Biblical
account implies only, that it became necessary prematurely, and for
another than its normal reason,--namely, before the development of
personal character had led to its invention as an adornment. The sin of
the first pair effected only that the hitherto-innocent consorts felt,
now, shame in each other's presence, and that clothing, the proper
object of which is ornamentation, was turned into a garb of penance.
Clothing was not the very first want of persons living as yet in the
most primitive simplicity; nor was yet its lack the characteristic
trait of the Paradisaical state; clothing would have become a moral
requirement also in the unfallen state so soon as man had grown into
families, and the riper character of parents appeared in the presence
of children [comp. Gen. ix, 21 sqq.] The nudity of savages is not
innocence, but shameless rudeness.
Animals do not decorate themselves, they are decorated already; man
exalts himself above the animal by ingenious decoration. The tawdry
ornamentation of savages exemplifies this, under a rude form; with
them, the mere changing of the natural form is regarded as a
beautifying; the notion of ornamentation is conceived under an
essentially negative form; the unnatural itself is regarded as
beautiful. There is a higher significance in the hunter's hanging about
himself the skins of the bear or lion;--this is to him essentially a
decoration of honor, a sign of his courage. Thus also, in the simpler
forms of civilized life, it is an honor for a woman personally to weave
and to prepare her own clothing and that of the family; it is natural
for man to display his work, the fruit of his skill; but he also loves
to manifest his spiritual idiosyncrasy under an esthetic form in the
ornamentation of the body. Clothing and ornamentation in general, when
of a normal character, manifest, in part, the general element, the
natural peculiarity, and, in part, the personal peculiarity; hence in
the style of the clothing we can to a certain extent recognize the
personal character; the distinction between male and female clothing
among all civilized nations has a deep moral ground [comp. Deut. xxii,
5]; and just as, on the one hand, it is usually foolish and vain for an
individual to break entirely with a general national custom, so, on the
other, it is evidence of spiritual imbecility to make one's entire
outward appearance a piece of mere imitation, without personal
peculiarity.
The Scriptures attach some importance to a befitting adornment,
especially in its moral significancy. Jehovah himself prescribes a
worthy garb for those who officiate in his worship [Exod. xxviii and
xxxix; Num. xv, 38 sqq.]; a holy adornment becomes those who offer
worship to the Lord [Psa. xxix, 2; comp. Exod. xix, 10; Ezek. xxiv,
17]. When Christ in his parable [Matt. xxii, 2 sqq.] characterizes the
not putting on of the wedding-garment as a serious fault, he manifestly
does more than allude to a mere worthless custom [comp. Gen. xli, 14];
and the apostle does not consider it unimportant to commend to the
societies a becoming adornment [1 Tim. ii, 9, 10].
That cleanliness of body and of clothing is regarded not only in the
Old Testament [Exod. xix, 10; xxix, 4; Lev. viii, 66; Num. viii, 6
sqq.; xxxi, 21 sqq.; comp. Prov. xxxi, 25], but also in all the higher
heathen religions and in Islamism, as an important moral and religious
duty, so that in fact a large part of the worship consists in washings,
with direct symbolical reference to moral purification,--is a plain
indication of the deep moral significancy of bodily purity. The
sanitary interest is here merely incidental; the essential point is the
outward expressing of the spiritual. Man is to bear, in his entire
inner nature, as well as in his outward manifestation, a
spiritually-moral impress,--is to be, in all respects, an expression of
free self-determination, is to have upon himself nothing which has
attached itself to him merely outwardly or fortuitously, as something
belonging not to him, but to an extraneous nature-body,--is to be a
purely spiritual creation. Uncleanliness is the expression of unfree
nature,--of a dependent, passive belonging to mere outward nature, an
evidence of self-abandonment, self-disesteem and dishonor, and is
regarded among all cultivated nations as a symbol and actual indication
of sin; it has never been any thing other than isolated spiritual
perversions of humanity who have found an especial wisdom and greatness
of soul in an open display of uncleanliness. Sensual pleasure-seeking,
riotousness and moral degradation usually lead to corporeal filthiness;
and it is a very wise principle of education in the case of the morally
abandoned, and in missions among rude tribes, to place a very high
value on bodily cleanliness. The precepts as to cleansing, in the Old
Testament, are based on this ground; Christianity expressly declares
carefulness about outward cleanliness as a virtue intimately connected
with religion [Matt. vi, 17; comp. John xiii, 4 sqq.].
To the gracefulness and beauty of the physique, belongs also that
manner of movement or bearing which answers to the spiritual character,
to beauty of soul; the cultivation of skillfulness of movement leads
directly to the culture of esthetical motion. The beauty of movement
consists in the fact that it expresses the perfect mastery of the soul
over the body, and thus presents, in the body, not merely the organ of
the will, but also, through the element of the beautiful, an image of
the self-harmonious spirit,--in youth an expression of heart-gladness,
in age that of earnest dignity. The dance is esthetic only in youth, in
the mature it is repulsive.
SECTION CXXII.
(2) Moral appropriating and forming, as bearing upon the spirit itself,
that is, the moral striving of the spirit to have and to possess itself
as its own moral product, takes place through conscious, free activity,
although indeed in the unconscious nature of the personal spirit there
exists an impulse ill that direction. In so far as man is a rational
spirit he has before him his own self as a moral task,--is to form
himself into a moral personality, into a character; all non-advancement
is here retrogression. This appropriating and forming relates to the
spirit both as cognizing, as feeling, and as willing, and looks to the
harmony of these three phases of the spirit-life.
It is only when the spirit makes itself into its own possession,--forms
itself into a truly rational spirit, that it is a moral spirit. He who
is only a product of other spirits, who allows himself passively to be
molded merely by the spirit that for the time being prevails in
society, is, even when this spirit is a good one, not yet morally
mature, but is in moral nonage; he is not yet a person, not yet a
character. What Christ says [Matt. xxv, 14 sqq.] of putting to use the
talents received, holds good also of the moral endowments of man; he
dare not leave them idle, but must put them to moral usury,--must mold
himself by spiritual appropriation into richer self-possession. He who
"has not,"--who leaves idle his received talent, who makes it not into
a vital possession,--does not retain it even as an unproductive power,
but loses what he already has, and for the simple reason that it is a
general law that a life-power, if unawakened into activity, dies away
and perishes; it is only in virtue of a vital progressive development
that the spiritual can be preserved,--even as water is saved from
stagnation only by motion. The state of innocence cannot be preserved
by mere non-doing; moral indolence would let even the trees of life in
Paradise wither away. By the leaving idle of that which is destined to
development, man sinks to moral dullness and insensibility; the
spiritual condition of savages is a manifestation of the consequences
of burying the received talent.
The culture of self by the appropriation of truth, that is, the forming
of self to knowledge and wisdom, is presented in the Scriptures as one
of the highest moral duties, and it is inadmissible to limit this
appropriation to merely religious and moral truth, though of course
this is the principal thing (S: 104). God actually directed the first
man to the acquirement of knowledge by the fact of his referring him to
the objective world about him (S: 60), and in the fact that He made
known himself and his will to him. But the knowledge of good and evil
was forbidden to man, for the reason that a real knowledge of the
latter was possible only by its realization; he was indeed to know what
he should not do, but not to know of a real evil, and only a real
entity can be truly known; but the woman sought after a wisdom [Gen.
iii, 6] apart from true wisdom, and consequently fell.
Feeling is primarily of an immediate, involuntary character; but man is
not to be under the power of unfree feelings; he is rational only when
he develops his feelings into moral ones,--brings them under the
control of his rational knowledge and of his moral volitions. There is
absolutely no place in the human mind or heart for any thing that is
not morally willed or conditioned. Hence it is a moral duty to
cultivate our feelings into moral integrity, so that they may never
incur the liability of being reproached by the moral
consciousness,--never, even involuntarily, entertain envy, and the
like. In the ante-sinful state such feelings of course do not yet
exist; but non-moral feelings become very soon sinful ones unless they
become developed. And even the, as yet, uncorrupted feelings are
primarily still in a crude state and in need of culture. The feeling of
delight, and hence of happiness, rises with the increase of culture;
the first human beings could not be so happy in their first days as
they could have been after further moral development. They too were
liable to have morally false feelings. It is true there was as yet
nothing immoral before their eyes which could have become an object of
immoral delight; but they had, before them, themselves as in need of
further development; hence if they had felt perfectly contented in this
state of need, instead of thirsting after a higher perfection, this
feeling would have been immoral. On the other hand, they were capable
of feeling displeasure at the divine,--as in fact actually occurred in
view of the divine prohibition. And the pleasure which Eve felt in the
words of the tempter was already decidedly immoral, seeing that it
implied a will not to follow the will of God, and was essentially the
fall itself.
But feeling must be formed not merely as to its quality, but also as to
its degree of liveliness. If only the more prominent phases of good and
evil make an impression upon us, while the less prominent ones pass
before us unnoticed, then our moral feeling is obscure and obtuse. The
fact that feeling, like the bodily senses, is affected at first only by
the stronger impressions, implies of itself the duty of making it
sensitive--sensitive even for the most delicate features of the godly
or the ungodly. And this can be brought about only by a constantly
increasing growth in knowledge,--by an attending to whatever takes
place within and without us; we must prove all things and hold fast to
the best, the good, and that too not merely as knowledge but also as
the possession of our heart, as our delight and joy.--Our feelings, as
moral, stand not outside of, but also under our will. The notion that
the heart cannot be commanded, is absolutely immoral,--is an assertion
of man's irresponsibility. Natural feeling does indeed precede the
will, but moral feeling is, under one phase, determined by the moral
will [S: 93]. It is not left to the hearts of children whether they
will or can love their parents, they are bound to love them; and the
same is true of wedlock-love, of our love to our calling, to our
rulers, to our country. The first promptings of feeling are as yet
extra-moral, but in that by this first excitation the will becomes free
and is set into activity, it then in turn directs its activity also
upon the feelings and the affections.
That willing is in harmony with knowing and feeling, is primarily
strictly natural; in man, however, as distinguished from the much
earlier self-possessing animal, this agreement is primarily only
approximative; the will must be exercised in order to be sure of
itself; man must first learn how to use it. There is need of a moral
will in order that the will nay become moral. This has all the
appearance of a vicious circle, but it is not; the fact is, I must in
general, and as a principle, have a will always to follow the truth, in
order that, in particular, I may actually form my individual will
morally, and make it subject to recognized truth. The spirit is willing
but the flesh is weak; this is relatively true also in a normal
development of mankind; this flesh is, however, not merely
sensuousness, but also the spirit itself, the will, in so far as it has
not as yet become veritably free. The will of the spirit must become
something which it is not, as yet, from the very start,--truly free;
and it is free only when that feebleness, which is primarily merely a
sort of clumsiness, is overcome,--when the spirit is not only in
general willing to do God's will, but also shows in each particular
case the same unwavering willingness. That which, in a state of
sinfulness, becomes a self-conflicting double will [Rom. vii, 15 sqq.],
exists also in the ante-sinful state, at least in so far as to
constitute a difference between the will as purely individual and the
will as truly rational, God-consecrated, and self-denying. The former
is not to be done away with, but to be harmoniously subordinated to the
latter; the will must be so formed as that we can say at every moment:
I will, and yet not I, but God who dwells in me. The will should not be
a willful will, but must be molded into an obedient one,--into
obedience to the divine will, which, in virtue of our love to God,
becomes at one with our own will. In obeying, man distinguishes indeed
his own will from God's will, but he subordinates his will, not
lothfully but in loving willingness, to the lovingly-appropriated
divine will,--transfigures the former, more and more, by his love of
the latter, so that finally there are no longer two wills, but only
one,--and that, not in virtue of any destruction, but simply in virtue
of love, not by violence but through freedom,--by following the example
of Christ in the constant practice of the principle: "Not my will, but
thine be done" [Luke xxii, 42; Matt. vi, 10; John v, 30; Psa. xl, 8;
Jer. vii, 23; Matt. vii, 21; xii, 50; 1 John ii, 17; Heb. xiii, 21].
Every moral will must say with Christ: "My meat is to do the will of
him that sent me" [John iv, 34]; obedience is the food of the
soul,--forms and strengthens the will to an increasingly freer and
holier manner of willing. Only those are the children of God who are
led by the spirit of God,--who permit themselves freely to be guided by
Him, who will only in and through Him [Rom. viii, 14].
Hence also in the forming of the will we have to distinguish between
the quality and the degree. A will may in fact be good in quality, may
aim at the good and detest the evil, and yet be lacking in strength and
in steadfastness,--may shrink before difficulties; it may begin well
and yet not bring to perfection; good resolutions do not necessarily
imply a truly good will; in fact, the road to hell is said to be paved
with good resolutions. He who has a good will only at first, but does
not really carry out any thing, is as yet unfree in his will,--has it
not under his control, and is yet a moral minor; he does not actually
will at every particular conjuncture that which he wills in general.
Hence it is man's duty to place his will entirely under the dominion of
moral reason, to mold it to freedom, in order that in particular cases
it may not offer resistance to good resolutions in general,--in a word,
that a will of the flesh may not oppose itself to the will of the
spirit.
III. THE MORAL ACTIVITY AS RELATING TO OTHER PERSONS.
SECTION CXXIII.
(a) The moral sparing of others consists in a real recognition of their
moral personality, and hence of their personal independence, freedom,
and honor.
(a) Man's personal independence and freedom, which are the expression
of his morally rational essence, may be limited by others only in the
interest of higher moral ends, namely, either in order to train the as
yet morally and spiritually immature toward real freedom, or in the
moral interests of the moral whole or society.--(b) The personal honor
of our fellow-man is preserved when we recognize and treat him as a
morally-rational being called to God-likeness and God-sonship, and
hence as capable of, and entitled to, moral communion with us,--when we
do nothing toward him which is inconsistent therewith,--which would
stigmatize him as non-moral, or, undeservedly, as immoral and
irrational; this is the duty of respecting our neighbor, and as implied
therein of respecting the personal dignity of man in general,--the duty
of sparing and protecting the good name of our neighbor.--(g) From
these two duties follows the duty of a sparing respect for whatever
appertains to our neighbor,--belongs to him as a possession, is his
property in the broadest sense of the word, that is, whatever he has a
right to call his own,--and hence a positive avoidance of all action
whereby it would be damaged or alienated from our neighbor.
Even as our personal morality does not consist in undisciplined
arbitrary discretion, but in the controlling our own will by the will
of God, so also there is no moral influencing of our fellow-man without
a limiting of his individual will, of his individual liberty, and that
too in the very interest of his higher personal freedom. The child
cannot be educated without that in many respects limits be set to its,
as yet, unripe, unintelligent will; in the person of the educator it is
confronted with the principles of moral order under which it is to bow
its individual will; it is in fact an essential part of the duty of
sparing the personality of the child, that it be not allowed to grow up
in rudeness. As the child is related to its parents, so is the
individual person to the moral whole. He whose calling it is to govern,
must confine the liberty of the individual within the order of the
whole,--must in some measure limit it in order that all may become
truly free; in an organized moral community it is each member's duty to
co-operate in the realization of moral order, and hence to hold within
bounds both his own will and the will of others. Hence the moral
sparing of others is never of an unconditional character, but finds a
limit in the duty of moral culture; but within this limit the duty of
sparing becomes all the more imperative. The limiting may never be such
as to reduce the object to a mere will-less creature of arbitrary
discretion; the right of the object of education or guidance to be an
independent moral personality with a moral purpose of its own, may
never be ignored. He who is as yet morally a minor may never be treated
as if he were always to remain such,--never as a mere means to an
end,--but he must be treated as having an end in himself. A slavish
education is sinful; despotic government is immoral, whether exercised
by a single individual or by a minority-crushing majority. Whatever
apology may be made for slavery in a sinful world, in the sphere of
pure morality it is absolutely anti-moral.
The sparing and respecting of the personal honor of others, appears
among the chief commands in the Old Testament [Exod. xx, 16; Lev. xix,
16], and is presented also in the Gospel as one of the most essential
of duties [Matt. v, 21, 22]. My neighbor has upon me a claim to respect
for his honor, for his good name. Man is not a mere isolated unit, but
a vital member of a moral whole; the personal honor, the good name, of
each is the moral bond which holds together the community; he who has
lost respect in society stands outside of the scope of its
common-life,--is a broken-off leaf soon to wither away.--The sparing of
the possessions of others [Exod. xx, 15, 17; Lev. xix, 35, 36; Deut.
xxv, 13 sqq.; xxvii, 17; 1 Thess. iv, 6] is only a special phase of the
sparing of the person of others. In his property man creates for and
about himself a little world which as the product of his labor, belongs
to him, which he calls his earnings, and for which he has consequently
a moral right to recognition and respect on the part of others.
SECTION CXXIV.
(b) The moral appropriating and the forming of others are, in virtue of
the mutual moral relation of men to each other, always associated
together in a normal state of things,--each being and involving at the
same time also the other; and both take place at the same time in the
moral act of love. In active love toward his neighbor, man brings about
also love toward himself, for the beloved person becomes united to, and
appropriated by, him who loves; the active love of one's neighbor is
therefore an appropriating and a forming at the same time, both in
respect to the neighbor and in respect to the loving person himself.
The exercise of love breaks down the antithesis of individual persons,
but at the same time respects their moral rights and moral
independence.
It is noteworthy that in the Scriptures we never read of the love of
mankind, but always of the love of neighbor; [Matt. vi, 14, 15 is only
a seeming exception to this, as here "men" stand in contrast to God].
Christ's love to us is indeed called love to man or to the brethren,
but never love to neighbor; but our love to man in general, and not
merely to our Christian brethren, is always called love to neighbor. In
this very circumstance the moral relation of men to each other is
directly indicated. My fellow-man does not stand before me as a mere
isolated individual, but as one who, by God's will, is near to me,--who
belongs to me for my full love, belongs to me so intimately that there
ought to be nothing strange or uncongenial between him and me. In love,
my neighbor becomes mine, and I his; hence love is a mutual
appropriating; and by the fact that I thereby enlarge both my
life-sphere and his own, it is at the same time a mutual forming. Love
seeks not merely the welfare of the other, but also his love. In the
act of love I form the other, in that I impart myself to him as loving,
and that too in my moral character; I rejoice him and exalt his moral
life, in that I stimulate him to reciprocal love. At the same time also
I exercise a formative influence on myself, in that by this communion I
am myself exalted and promoted in my spiritually-moral existence,--in
that I spiritually appropriate to myself an other spiritual being.
The law of love is presented by Christ as the highest of all commands,
and love of neighbor as the substance of all moral duties toward our
fellow-man [Matt. xxii, 39, 40; John xiii, 34, 35; xv, 12, 17; comp.
Rom. xii, 10; xiii, 8-10; Gal. v, 14; Eph. v, 2; 1 Thess. iv, 9; 1 Cor.
xiii, 1 sqq.; 1 Pet. i, 22; iv, 8; 1 John iii, 11; James ii, 8; Heb.
xiii, 1]. All fulfilling of duty toward our neighbor is an exercise of
love; when not so it is but deception; that which springs not of love,
is not only morally worthless, but also immoral, because counterfeit.
Love is the test of true God-sonship [1 John iv, 12, 13], "for love is
of God, and every one that loveth is born of God and knoweth God" [1
John iv, 7]; human love is thankful reciprocation for that love which
first loved us,--is true religion [James i, 27]; and love to God must
necessarily manifest itself also in love to the beloved of God [1 John
iv, 20, 21; v, 1, 2]. The precept of love to neighbor is presented even
in the Old Testament as a chief duty [Lev. xix, 18], and is expressly
extended to non-Israelites [verse 34; Deut. x, 19; Micah vi, 8; Zech.
vii, 9]; what a contrast this forms to the boasted "humanitarianism" of
the Greeks to whom every non-Greek was a right-less barbarian! Thou
shalt love thy neighbor "as thyself;" this is not a mere comparison of
two parallel forms of love,--both are at bottom but one love; a truly
moral love of one's self as a moral personality, necessarily manifests
itself also as love to other moral persons through whom in fact one's
own rational being is heightened; true love of neighbor is also at the
same time true self-love. This holds good even of the false love of
neighbor; every one seeks, in some form, friendship and love, and feels
himself unhappy in isolation; hence our Lord says: "If ye love [only]
them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the Publicans the
same?" [Matt. v, 46, 47; comp. Luke vi, 32]. If now even a false love
of neighbor is at the same time a love of self, how much more so is the
true love of neighbor!--not however, of course, in such a sense as that
I love my neighbor only for my own sake, for that would be
self-seeking, but in the sense that I love my neighbor for God's sake,
and in this love of God exalt at the same time my own moral life, and
find in the love of neighbor true moral enjoyment.
The symbolical expression of mutual union in love is bodily touching,
especially the giving of the hand [2 Kings x, 15; Gal. ii, 9], and in a
higher form the kiss, which evinces a more intimate equality of love
the more it is reciprocal; the kiss on the forehead or cheek is rather
the sign of a condescending and more distant love, the kissing of the
hand that of a reverential love, the kissing of the feet that of a
humbly submissive love [Luke vii, 38; Isa. xlix, 23], the kiss on the
lips that of a mutual, confidential, intimate love, and hence
especially expressive also of sexual love. In the Scriptures the kiss
appears as the sign of love between parents and children [Gen. xxvii,
26, 27; xxxi, 28, 55; xlviii, 10; l, 1; Exod. xviii, 7; Ruth i, 9; 1
Kings xix, 20; Luke xv, 20], between brothers and sisters and relatives
[Gen. xxix, 11, 13; xxxiii, 4; xlv, 15; Exod. vi, 27; Ruth i, 14],
between friends [1 Sam. xx, 41], as an expression of homage [1 Sam. x,
1; Psa. ii, 12; Luke vii, 38], and as an expression of love in other
respects [2 Sam. xx, 9; Matt. xxvi, 48 sqq.; Luke vii, 45; Acts xx,
37]; hence it is also a symbol of reconciliation [Gen. xxxiii, 4; 2
Sam. xiv, 33: Luke xv, 20]; and the fraternal kiss was, in the early
church, a general custom [Rom. xvi, 16; 1 Cor. xvi, 20; 2 Cor. xiii,
12; 1 Thess. v, 26; 1 Pet. v, 14.]
SECTION CXXV.
Active love is a self-impartation of the subject to the object,--an
imparting of what is one's own to another in order to exalt his life.
Hence it manifests itself in service-rendering, in benefiting; all
moral community-life is a reciprocal service of love; every act of love
is a sacrifice. Sympathizing love imparts every thing which is dear to
it:--(a) It imparts its own spiritual possessions in order thereby to
promote the spiritual life and the spiritual possessions of the other,
and this, in virtue of an honest and truthful self-communication. To
this communication corresponds, on the part of the object, the
answering and accepting love of confidence, that is, a willingness to
let himself be formed by the appropriation of the
spiritually-communicating love of his fellow,--a being receptive for
self-revealing truthfulness. (b) Love imparts also its material
possessions, and is hence a devoting of our personal productive forces
to the aid of the needy, in the fulfillment of the duties of charity
and personal assistance. In imparting and devoting itself, love
acquires a right to the reciprocating love of the other,--to
thankfulness in heart and act.
Love imparts lovingly to the beloved that which itself loves; only that
in which I myself have pleasure, can I lovingly impart; for this reason
every true act of love is a sacrifice, and a sacrifice that is not
hesitatingly and stumblingly brought; love makes it easy; but every
sacrifice must be made to God; only he who practices love for God's
sake brings a proper offering. To do good and to communicate is
expressly declared in the Scriptures as a God-pleasing sacrifice [Heb.
xiii, 16]. The mite of the poor, when offered in love, avails more than
the rich gift of the thoughtless spendthrift; in fact he who does not
morally love his legitimately-obtained possessions, cannot in the
nature of things make therefrom a sacrifice.
Christ gives as the determining rule for our conduct toward our
neighbor the general formula: "All things whatsoever ye would that men
should do to you, do ye even so to them, for this is the law and the
prophets" [Matt. vii, 12]. Hence true self-love is the pattern and
measure of love to neighbor; our own rational striving shows us what is
the striving of others, and ought to put itself into harmony with the
latter; that which I would acquire for myself as a right upon others,
ought first to be a duty toward them. By this rule Christ implies, at
the same time, that love begets answering love, and hence reverts back
upon him who exercises it. This is a practical life-rule in answer to
the question: flow shall I exercise love in each and every particular
case? and it gives as the answer: Just as I should wish that it should
be done to myself,--a very safe rule, provided always that my own moral
consciousness in general is not beclouded, so that I should no longer
know what would really serve to my peace. The precious is purchased
only by the precious,--love only by love. All love seeks to serve; love
of neighbor is ministering love. "Whosoever will be great among you,
let him be your minister, and whosoever will be chief among you, let
him be your servant, even as the Son of man came not to be ministered
unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many" [Matt.
xx, 26 sqq.]. Christ's love, the highest pattern, is itself the highest
love-service, and has brought the greatest sacrifice; all love to God
is a service of God; all neighbor-love is a God-serving in the service
of the neighbor. "Let no man seek what is his own, but every man what
is another's" [1 Cor. x, 24]; love to self must not become a separating
of ourselves from others, nor a self-seeking using of them;
self-seeking must be sacrificed in order to attain to true self-love in
the love of neighbor. "Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he
said, It is more blessed to give than to receive" [Acts xx, 35]; giving
makes happier in the very love-act itself, and, though a sacrificing,
is yet at the same time a receiving, an enkindling of reciprocal love,
an imitating of God and of Christ who out of love gave all; it is more
blessed than receiving,--not that we are simply to give acts of love,
and not also thankfully to receive them,--for he who cannot, out of
love, receive, is unable also to give out of love, and he who, because
of pride, will not receive, gives in fact only out of pride; but that
kind of receiving is not blessed and does not render blessed, which is
not willing also to give, but only to have, and in which the person
regards only the bestowment as such, and not the love which makes
it,--inclines only to possess the gift, but not to recognize the love
and to reciprocate it in love. The moral person receives also gladly,
out of love, from love, not however for the sake of the gift but for
the sake of the giver,--desires indeed to receive love, but only for
the reason that he himself loves. The giving of presents is a
universally recognized sign of love, even where the moral consciousness
appears under its rudest forms [Gen. xii, 16; xlv, 17 sqq.]; there is
no love which does not seek to impart itself,--which would not gladly
offer liberally, for the delight and enjoyment of the other, that in
which the loving one himself has delight and enjoyment, and thus prove
itself genuine by sacrifice [Gen. xxiv, 22, 53; xxxii, 13 sqq.; xlii,
25; xliii, 11; xlv, 22 sqq.; 1 Sam. ix, 7 sqq.; xviii, 4; Prov. xviii,
16]. Among certain rude tribes it is customary for friends to
interchange names, as is, in fact, the case with one of the parties,
even now, in Christian marriage; this is also a love-offering.
Communicating love imparts indeed all that it has, but it does not give
away all; the spiritual possession grows in imparting itself. The
communicating of one's own spiritual possessions is the exercise of
truthfulness. The rational spirit has, in virtue of its own duty of
spiritual appropriating, an absolute right to truthfulness in the
self-communications of. others, though indeed not an unconditional
right to the communication of all that is known by others. Love admits
of no falseness; and though there may be things in the life, even of
the righteous, especially inner states, which may not and should not be
communicated indiscriminately to every one,--for example, to the as yet
morally immature,--still, this silence is essentially different from
falsifying. In the Scriptures truthfulness is based on love; "speak
every man truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another"
[Eph. iv, 25], that is, because we are united as vital organs to a
single moral body,--belong to each other, should he transparent to each
other. "To this end," says Christ, "was I born, and for this cause came
I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth" [John
xviii, 37]; this is true of Christ also in his character of Son of man,
and hence also of all men; now Christ came into the world out of love,
and out of love he bore witness to the truth. Truth is the good, the
divine, as relating to spiritual communicating. Whatever exists is for
the personal spirit, and each personal spirit exists for all other
personal spirits,--must be perfectly transparent to them, in so far as
sin throws into it no shadow, in order that spirit in general, the
essential nature of which is to unite the separated, may attain to the
truth [Matt. v, 37; comp. Job xxvii, 4; Zech. viii, 16; Psa. xv, 2;
xxxiv, 14; Rev. xiv, 5]. Where sin is not yet predominant, but love
prevails, there truthfulness is easy and natural; it becomes difficult
only where sin predominates.
The formative influencing of others through the living-out of a moral
character is to be regarded simply as a phase of the truthfulness of
loving self-communication, and not as constituting a special duty of
giving a good example [Matt. v, 14-16; Rom. xiv, 19; xv, 2; Phil. ii,
15; iii, 17; Titus ii, 7; 1 Pet. ii, 9, 12, 15; comp. 1 Cor. iv, 16;
xi, 1; Phil. iv, 9; 2 Thess. iii, 7]. No one may wish to be moral in
order to appear moral; that would be downright hypocrisy; but also no
one should desire to conceal that which in his character is truly
moral; this would likewise be untruth. But in order to the formative
influencing of others through moral self-manifestation, it is of course
not enough simply to be inactive, simply as it were to let one's self
be contemplated, but there is requisite, in view of the diverse
characters that are to be influenced, a selection of special manners of
self-communication; as bearing upon children the manner must be other
than with the morally mature; from this, however, it does not follow
that this self-impartation is to sink to a mere self-complacent display
of self,--an intentional presentation of self as a moral pattern, in
any respect whatever. This would be, even in a saint, a violation of
becoming humility,--a tempting of hearts from Him who alone is the
perfect type of holiness.
Spiritual self-communicating, even when perfectly truthful, is not per
se of a moral character, for, in view of the limitedness of men as
individual persons, it is in fact a direct necessity; for this reason,
perfect solitude is so great a torment; the recluse endures his
freely-chosen solitude solely because he is engaged in a continuous
spiritual self-communicating, namely, to God in prayer; a non-praying,
unpious solitary would either be suffering the severest punishment or
would be spiritually deranged. Self-impartation may even be sinful, as
in purposeless, thoughtless gossip; it becomes moral only when it is a
practicing of love. Loving self-communication seeks not its own but
that which is another's. Falsehood is hatred, is lovelessness; where
true love is there falsehood is impossible; hence the deep pain
occasioned by falseness on the part of the beloved one.
From the fact that truthfulness is an expression of love, it is
entitled to answering love from the other party, to a ready welcoming,
to confidence. It is true, confidence in men is generally presented in
the Scriptures as deceiving [Psa. cxviii, 8; Jer. xvii, 5, 6, etc.];
here, however, the question is only as to an unpious confidence which
builds not upon God but upon man, and of the state of sinfulness in
general. But where sin is not yet in the mastery, there mutual
confidence is the necessary antecedent condition of all moral
communion, and a necessary out-going of love. Distrust paralyzes love.
The truthful have a moral right to confidence in their word; confidence
is the reverse side of truthfulness. Even as Christ uniformly required
faith and confidence in himself, because he was the Truth, so may every
one who is of the Truth lay claim to confidence; hence confidence is
not a discretionary state of the mind, but a moral act. The little
child that was proposed to the disciples as a moral type, is such also
in respect to trust and confidence.
The more outward form of self-imparting through service-rendering [Gen.
xxiv, 18 sqq.; xxxiii, 12, 15; Exod. ii, 17; Deut. xxii, 1 sqq.; Matt.
xxi, 3; John xii, 2; xiii, 4 sqq.; Acts xxviii, 2; Gal. v, 13; 1 Pet.
iv, 10; Heb. vi, 10; xiii, 16, etc.] which, on the supposition of a
state of sinfulness, includes in itself also beneficence, is not as yet
in the unfallen state a showing of pity, for misery does not exist save
in a state of sin; but there is always need of mutual assistance so
long as the last degree of perfection is not yet reached, and hence
there is always also the duty of helping, through the imparting of our
own forces and means,--of mutually complementing our possessions which
largely vary according to the personal peculiarity of the possessors.
Love is in its very nature communion-forming,--calls for the love of
the other. And unreciprocated love presupposes sin. Love gives itself
over, but it does not give itself away; it desires to find itself again
in the beloved, even as light never shines without being reflected. The
loving reflection of love, namely, love as the fruit of love, is
thankfulness. He to whom thankfulness or unthankfulness is indifferent,
has no love; even the Lord himself wept over Jerusalem when it spurned
his love. The warmer the love, so much the more sensitively is felt the
chill of thanklessness; only a taking refuge in the love of God can
assuage this pang. But only he is entitled to thankfulness whose love
is itself humble thanks to the loving God; without this the pretended
right is simply presumptuous self-seeking. The moral worth of
thankfulness and the despicableness of thanklessness are recognized
even among the rudest tribes, as in fact even in brutes thankfulness is
manifested by brightened looks; and hence Christ represents this duty
as valid even among the heathen,--as instinctively commending itself to
the natural consciousness, and as also practiced by man in his natural
state [Matt. v, 46; Luke vi, 32, 33; comp. Exod. ii, 20; Josh. vi, 22
sqq.; 1 Sam. xv, 6; 2 Kings v, 16, 23; Ruth ii, 10 sqq.; Luke xvii, 16;
Acts xxiv, 3]. But only love has a right to thankfulness; a benefit
which does not flow from love, which merely seeks thankfulness, does
not deserve thankfulness, for it is inwardly false.
SECTION CXXVI.
At an equal stage of spiritually-moral maturity, men are related to
each other as mutually-forming and appropriating each other to a like
degree; but the more there is a difference in this maturity, so much
the more predominates on the part of the morally higher-developed the
formative influencing, and on the part of others the appropriating.
However, the right and duty of formative influencing on the part of the
morally less-developed never sinks to zero;--even the as yet morally
immature inevitably exert a measure of moral influence upon the morally
higher-developed and upon the totality of society.
A complete moral equalization of all men as to their moral influencing
of others would be an irrational reversing of all moral order, a
dissolving of all historical life into unorganized individual units.
Children never sustain to their parents a relation of perfect equality;
their relation to them is always rather appropriating than formative;
the resistance of children to the higher moral validity of the parents
is regarded among almost all nations as a flagrant outrage, and
reverence for age as a high virtue. But society at large is a moral
whole, and here also the higher-advanced have and exercise naturally a
guiding and an educative influencing-activity over and upon the others,
and the totality has a higher validity than the individual. The
higher-developed moral individual sustains to the morally-immature the
right and duty of educative influencing; a perfectly holy man would
enjoy per se a right to spiritually-moral dominion; and for this good
reason, and not simply in virtue of his being the Son of God, is Christ
our legitimate Lord. Nevertheless the right and duty of moral forming
never sinks, even in case of the most immature, to absolute nothing;
childish innocence has disarmed many an evil intent; the direct
impression of guileless confidence, of unsuspicion, strikes the
malicious purpose with shame. The pious simplicity of the faith-word of
a child has often proved a heart-stirring awakening for vain
wisdom-boasting unbelief.--Also toward the moral community, the
individual sustains the right and the duty of moral influencing, though
in a normal development of the community-life this influencing would
give place very largely to appropriating; moreover it varies according
to the varying social stations of the individual.
IV. THE MORAL ACTIVITY AS RELATING TO OBJECTIVE NATURE.
SECTION CXXVII.
(a) The moral sparing to which nature, in virtue of its essence as
God's perfectly created work, and as an expression of the divine love
and wisdom, has a right, requires that man, in the exercise of the
moral dominion over nature to which he is called, regard this, its
divine phase, with due respect,--that he avoid all purposeless and
wanton changing or destroying of natural objects, and that, on the
contrary, he exercise toward nature a considerate love, especially in
its higher manifestations, by preserving them in their peculiarity. The
duty of considerate sparing rises in proportion as the nature-creature
comes into actual relation to human life, and enters into the sphere of
his moral activity as a helping factor.
Moral love to nature is thankfulness to God who gave it to us for moral
enjoyment and for moral dominion; to man, as pure, God gave not an
uncongenial and fear-awakening nature, but a Paradisaical nature. God
loves nature as he made it, and from its bosom God's creative love
beams out toward us, and he has even impressed manifold natural
suggestions of the moral upon it; Christ himself requires respect for
nature, for the heavens are God's throne and the earth is his footstool
[Matt. v, 34, 35], and it is in virtue of this religious conceiving of
nature that there can be moral duties also toward nature (as against
Rothe, Ethik, 1. ed., iii, S: 866). With the exception of the Indians,
who adore nature as the revealed divine essence itself, no people has
manifested so high a respect for nature as the Israelites; the
legislation of the Old Testament surpasses all other systems in a
considerate sparing of nature. Domestic animals especially are placed
under the sparing protection and care of the law [Prov. xii, 10]; the
mouth of the threshing ox is not to be muzzled [Deut. xxv, 4]; on the
Sabbath cattle, also are given rest Exod. xx, 10]; and in the
Sabbatical year both cattle and beasts are to pasture on the fallow
lands [Exod. xxiii, 11; Lev. xxv, 6, 7, in the original text]; the
beast of another that falls under its burden, or loses its way, is to
be helped [Exod. xxiii, 5; Deut. xxii, 1 sqq.; comp. Matt. xii, 11];
animals may not be castrated or otherwise maimed [Lev. xxii, 24; even
the crossing of animals of different kinds is, in high moral
recognition of the rights of nature-creatures, forbidden [Lev. xix,
19]. With the greatest tenderness of feeling, a merely symbolical
cruelty is not allowed; "thou shalt not seethe a kid in its mother's
milk" [Exod. xxiii, 19; xxxiv, 26; Deut. xiv, 21]; it makes the
impression of cruel mockery when the milk which is destined to nourish
the young is used in connection with its death. Under the same category
falls the prohibition of killing the calf, the kid, and the lamb, on
the same day with its mother [Lev. xxii, 28], and of taking an
incubating mother-bird at the same time with the nest [Deut. xxii, 6,
7]. The touching account of the care of God for the animals at the time
of the deluge, is an emphatic illustration of the moral sparing of
animals as it should be exercised by man; God includes also animals in
his covenant with Noah, and promises to spare them [Gen. ix, 10, 15].
Christ himself illustrates his own relation to the body of believers in
a gracious picture of a shepherd loving his flock [John x; comp. Matt.
xviii, 12, 13].
The piety-inspired careful sparing of whatever contributes to the
nourishment of man, is so natural an expression of the moral
consciousness that it prevails among almost all, and even barbarous,
nations. Christ sanctions this significant carefulness [John vi, 12].
This sparing has essentially a symbolical meaning,--is an evidencing of
thankfulness for the good gifts of God,--a thankfulness which suffers
not that these gifts of love be destroyed in wanton thoughtlessness and
in purposeless waste, or contemptuously thrown away.
SECTION CXXVIII.
(b) The moral appropriating of nature is either of a purely spiritual,
or of an actual character.--1. Spiritual appropriating consists, in
addition to the legitimate striving after the highest possible
knowledge of nature considered as a manifestation of divine power, love
and wisdom, mainly in the reflective contemplating of nature in its
symbolical suggestiveness of the moral,--God having implanted in it
natural symbols of the moral.
The thoughtful, moral contemplating of nature is at once of a pious and
of a poetical character; [14] it is not a mere play of the fancy, it is
veritable reality. Nature is not moral, but it is the work of Him who
is himself perfect morality. Nature as created by the holy God must
necessarily reflect this holiness as from a mirror; it is the high and
mysterious charm of nature that it is not mere nature, but that
everywhere the Spirit whispers out of its bosom and broods over its
expanse. Nature reveals to us not only God's creative power, wisdom and
glory [Rom. i, 20; Job xxxvii, sqq.; Psa. xcvii; civ; cxi, 2; cxlvii, 8
sqq. ], [15] the heavens not only declare God's glory [Psa. xix, 1
sqq.], but also God's love is made known to us in nature [Matt. vi, 26
sqq.; Acts xiv, 17], and the bow on the clouds [Gen. ix, 12 sqq.] and
the bespangled vault of the skies are symbols of the divine
faithfulness [Gen. xv, 5]. But the moral consciousness finds still more
than this; the phases of beauty that are perceived in nature are
suggestions of spiritual beauty. It is not a groundless fancy when the
mind discovers moral ideas symbolically suggested even in plants; we
feel at once the kindredness of impression upon the sensibilities that
is made by a delicate rose and by modest virginity, by a violet and by
childlike humility, by an oak and by firmness of character. And the
fact that animals so frequently directly remind us of human moral
qualities, is simply evidence that the holy creative Spirit rules in
them and discovers to us; in that which is merely natural, embryonic
premonitions of the moral. The ant, the bee, etc., are natural emblems
of the virtue of industry [Prov. vi, 6]; it is God who causes them
busily to care for a common want,--who works in them in order to speak
to man an unmistakable word of exhortation and instruction. The care of
birds for their young, the fidelity of the dog and of the horse, are
manifestations of a deeply suggestive character in nature. The quiet
gentleness and the patient sufferance of the lamb are applied as types
even to Christ [Isa. liii, 7; John i, 29, 36; 1 Pet. i, 19; Rev. v, 6,
and elsewhere]; Christ himself uses the dove as a symbol of uprightness
of heart [Matt. x, 16]. The animal-fable has something of the mystical
in it and contains deep truth. The attractive and convicting element
thereof is this inner mysterious fact, that something of the divine
rules in the animal, and looks out upon us,--a moral element
unconsciously immanent in nature itself; and that which appears in the
brute as a type of human sin, is more than a mere fancied
resemblance,--is in fact the root of that which in man actually becomes
sin, whereas in the animal it is simply a normal limitedness.
SECTION CXXIX.
(2) The actual appropriating of nature-objects for nourishment, and
thereby at the same time for sensuous enjoyment, involving the
destruction of living natural objects,--rests upon the moral right of
man over nature; and the limitations to the enjoyment of the
nature-objects which serve for food, lie less in the nature-objects
themselves than in the degree to which they are used and in the moral
state of the person, as also in the thought of the morally-becoming.
Also the flesh of animals is allowed to man for food) and hence also
the killing of the same for such purposes, although in connection
therewith all cruelty and all wanton levity is to be avoided. The chase
is moral only in this sense, and not for diversion.--As drink man is
permitted to use not only the strictly natural fluids, but also such as
are prepared by skill, including the vinous; it is simply their misuse
for inebriation that is immoral.
What things are per se appropriate as means of nourishment, is not a
moral but a physiological question. Although for the state of
sinfulness, the disciplinary law of God required man also in this
sphere to distinguish between clean and unclean, and forbade to him a
number of per se appropriate means of nourishment, still this law of
limiting discipline had no validity for humanity while as yet unstained
by sin. Here are applicable the words of Christ: "Not that which goeth
into the mouth defileth a man" [Matt. xv, 11; comp. Titus i, 15; Acts
x, 15; Rom. xiv, 1 sqq. 20; 1 Cor. x, 25 sqq.]. It is not the object
per se that renders an article of food sinful, but the disposition of
the eater, the manner of enjoying it,--namely, when one forgets God in
the sensuous, forgets his own moral dignity in the pleasure, aims not
at the satisfying of the want, but only at the enjoyment, and does not
observe the measure prescribed by the purpose of nourishment.
The admissibility of flesh-food, though very clear from a physiological
stand-point, has yet been contested from a moral point of view.
Asceticism has in all ages laid great stress on abstinence from flesh;
the Indians reject flesh-food unconditionally, inasmuch as, in
consequence of their Pantheistic philosophy, they regard the
slaughtering of animals, otherwise than for sacrifice, as a blasphemous
outrage. [16] The Manichees (and Essenes?) abstained likewise from all
flesh. The rejection of flesh-food in seasons of fasting has less an
objective than an inner ground. According to St. Jerome flesh and wine
were originally not allowed, and were first permitted after the deluge,
but they are not permissible under Christianity. [17] Paul mentions
similar views [Rom. xiv, 2]. Jehovah expressly conceded to man after
the deluge also animals for food [Gen. ix, 3], whereas in the blessing
after creation [Gen. i, 29] there is mention only of plants as food;
from this circumstance some have inferred that, previously, flesh-food
was not in fact allowed; but we find no trace of a previous
prohibition, and we can discover no reason for a change; rather would
there lie in the progressive corruption of mankind a reason for a
limiting of former rights; God's direction to Noah has in fact all the
appearance of an express confirmation of a former right; and the
privilege conferred at creation, of ruling over the fish of the sea,
etc., would hardly have any significance if it did not also include the
right to eat them. Abel brought offerings of the firstlings of his
flock and of their fat [Gen. iv, 4]; now as it was uniformly that which
was most precious to man that was offered as a sacrifice, hence it is
probable that flocks were kept also for the sake of flesh-food, to
which in fact the "coats of skins" [Gen. iii, 21] seems to allude. Were
flesh-food simply a concession to sinfulness, which in fact would have
no comprehensible reason, it would certainly not be prescribed in
connection with the Passover and with sacrifices, and above all Christ
himself would have abstained from it, whereas we know that the contrary
was the case [Matt. xi, 19; comp. Mark ii, 19; John ii, 2 sqq.; Matt.
xxvi, 17 sqq.]. Paul declares abstinence from flesh as a weakness of
faith [Rom. xiv, 2; comp. 21; 1 Cor. x, 25]; to Peter animals are
expressly offered in a vision for food [Acts 11 sqq.], and animals are
spoken of as destined to be slaughtered [2 Pet. ii, 12; Deut. xii, 15,
20]. It is true man can live without flesh, and he certainly has reason
not needlessly and out of mere wantonness to multiply the destruction
of animals; still, however, as it is grounded in the very constitution
of nature that animals serve for food to each other, hence it must be
allowable also for man to take food for himself out of the animal
kingdom. And should there seem to lie in the killing of an animal
something inconsistent with the original peace between man and nature,
and with man's instinctive feelings, and should it be inferred
therefrom that it is only the changing of the original relation of
things, as alluded to in the blessing upon Noah, that rendered
flesh-food morally possible,--still the force of this difficulty will
vanish so soon as we reflect upon the very ancient, pious, and
significant custom,--wide-spread even among heathen nations and
suggested in the laws of Moses [Lev. xvii, 3 sqq.],--namely, of slaying
the nobler animals in general only for purposes of sacrifice, and of
receiving back the flesh, thus consecrated to the Deity, only out of
His own hand. In regard to the primitive usage it is most probable,
therefore, that before the deluge the devout children of God partook
indeed of flesh-food, but only of animals offered in sacrifice, and
that too only seldom, as indeed pastoral people in general use but
little flesh-food. Noah might, in view of the sensuality of the
perished world, have doubted the propriety of flesh-food, and hence God
sanctions it expressly.
It is indeed not to be denied that in the practice of the slaying of
animals in general there lies a moral danger; it tends to blunt our
feelings of natural compassion; and it is not a mere morbid
sensibility, that makes it repugnant to some persons, e. g., to wring
off the head of a dove; moreover it is a well-known fact that those who
are engaged for the most part in the slaughtering of animals are liable
to become hardened and cruel; it does not follow from this, however,
that the slaughtering of animals for food is per se wrong, but only
that the manner of the slaughtering is not a matter of
indifference,--that it should be done with the least possible
suffering, and that not every animal is equally appropriate therefor.
It is in fact repugnant to our moral feelings to slaughter such
domestic animals as by their fidelity to and fondness for us, have
become in some respect our home-companions; it has the look of
treachery on the part of man,--of a betrayal of the confidence which
the animal had placed in him, in a word, of a breach of faith. The iron
necessity of our evil-fraught actual condition may excuse it; but it is
surely not the proper relation of things; and the fact that the general
feeling of almost all cultured nations has a horror of the butchering
of dogs and horses, man's most faithful companions, has its foundation
surely not in any notion of the unwholesomeness of their flesh, but in
a very legitimate moral feeling,--a feeling the disregarding of which
is no mark of a special refinement of culture. Much more natural, and
less questionably morally, is the killing of wild animals, and of such
animals of the flock as have not as yet stood to man in a close
relation of confidence. We cannot here as yet discuss in full the
subjects of food and drink.
SECTION CXXX.
(c) The formative working upon nature, the shaping of it into an organ
for man, is at the same time also an exalting of nature into the
service of the moral life, and hence a forming of it into an expression
of the human spirit,--an educating of nature whereby it is raised above
its immediate naturalness. and is made to receive the impress of human
action, of spiritual discipline. Man ennobles, spiritualizes, nature,
and makes it into his spiritual possession, into his freely-formed
home,--and in forming nature he appropriates it at the same time to
himself.
If the dominating of man over nature,--to which God expressly called
the first man [Gen. i, 28; Psa. viii], and which still holds good in a
somewhat modified manner even in the state of sinfulness [Gen. ix, 2,
3]. and which is promised again in the fullest degree for the yet to be
recovered perfect state [Isa. xi, 6 sqq.],--is not to be regarded as a
mere figure of speech, then it must also imply a forming of the same.
Man forms nature into an obedient instrument of the spirit, and gives
to it a spiritual, historical impress. Nature, in its wild state,
stands to man in an unhomelike, not to say hostile relation,--it is
only in its form as shaped and disciplined by his skill that he feels
at home. God gave nature to man as a theater for his moral activity,
but man is not at liberty simply to sport with it, simply to admire and
enjoy it,--he should really rule over it; but all ruling is at the same
time an appropriating and a forming. Man is to make of nature something
which as yet it is not,--is himself to form it into a
spiritually-molded home for himself. This forming of nature is either a
forming of it into a useful object for the individual, and hence in the
service of labor (S: 109), or a forming of it into an image of the
spirit, into a thing of beauty, into a work of art (S: 110). A
hill-side cavern is not a dwelling-place for man; his home-protection,
he must construct for himself. If even the bird builds its nest in a
way of its own, so that it bears an impress peculiar to the bird, how
much more must man spiritually shape nature into a home for himself! Of
course the forming of nature does not consist in an abuse of it,--e.
g., in a forcing of trees to be square, in cropping the tails of horses
and the ears of dogs,--but in the further development of the natural
beauty and perfection already existing in nature. The cultivated rose
is more beautiful than the wild one; the improved fruit tree is better
in many respects than the wild-growing one; the domesticated animals
have become in many respects quite other and more perfect creatures
than they were in their wild state; they have attained not only to
higher soul-capacities, but also to a nobler and stronger physique; the
wild dog and the wild horse cannot in any respect bear favorable
comparison with those which have been cultivated by man. The fidelity
of these creatures,--which indeed they show almost exclusively toward
man, to whom they attach themselves much more closely and
affectionately than to their own kind,--is an evidence of the normal
dominion of spirit over nature, and a positive ennobling, and is the
thankfulness of the animal for its culture.
The task of overcoming the wild forces of nature that stand in the way
of individual human life, and of subjecting them to the discipline of
the spirit, is a powerful stimulus to moral activity; and they are in
fact, in virtue of the divine creative plan, perfectly overcomable by
the rational spirit,--if not always by the individual, yet at least by
the collective, spirit. Though it is not true that all nature-objects
exist merely for the outward use of man, nevertheless they are in fact
for man, in a still higher sense,--for his moral delight, for spiritual
enjoyment, for the service of the moral life. The dominion and
discipline which man can and should exercise over the animal world,
does not in the original purpose imply that he is to surround himself
in his domestic life with animals of every sort, but it does imply that
he ought not (as, however, has actually taken place) to acknowledge
them as a power over against himself, and before which he has to
tremble, and against which he can secure himself only by strategy and
deadly violence; on the contrary, he should rise to a consciousness of
his all-sufficient dominating power over them; but to destroy is not to
dominate. That nature-creatures should become to man a torment, a
plague, a death-bringing danger, and that man in the interest of his
self-preservation should have to carry on a war of extermination
against a large portion of them,--all this is, according to the
Scripture view, a consequence of the disturbance of the harmony of
creation; hence, as it is a result of sin, we cannot as yet, here,
treat of it. Even in the fallen state, however, we can still discover
clear traces of the true relation of things; even the lion and the
tiger cannot bear the steady, fearless look of man, and they throw off
their natural awe of man only after having tasted of human blood. Man
can and may, however, actually realize his dominion over nature, only
when he permits himself to be ruled over by the holy Originator and
Lord of nature.
CHAPTER VI.
THE FRUIT OF THE MORAL LIFE AS MORAL END.
SECTION CXXXI.
The end of moral action, as willed by man as moral, is identical with
the end of God in man's creation; in this action man wills perfectly to
realize in himself the image of God,--to develop himself in reality as
a good being, and thereby to realize the good in general. In so far as
the good is a fruit of moral action, it is not a something exterior to
man, but inheres in him,--is his possession, which, as incorporated
into the morally-formed essence of man himself, and as thenceforth
inseparable from him, is a property or quality of his person. In so far
as the good is the property of man, it is his moral estate. Hence, as
the end of the moral activity in general is the good, so is this end,
for the moral man himself; the good as having become a moral estate.
The world is, with its mere creation, not as yet complete, but is
charged with a task which is to be carried out by moral creatures
themselves. Though it is true that all good is from God, still all good
is not from Him immediately; but in man's case it arises through the
free developing of that which was directly created. Man is himself to
create good; though as a creature he is good, yet he is not good in
such a manner as he is to become so; the image of God becomes complete
in him only through his own moral activity; and he makes into a good
entity not only himself, but also the world that comes into contact
with him,--he creates a spiritual historical world which is itself
good. To this good as created by himself he sustains quite other
relations than to that which is directly given to him in his natural
existence. To the first man much good was given, to which he had a
right, and which he could call his own. This good, however, was simply
placed upon him,--was as yet external to him, and not as yet identified
with his spiritual being; he indeed possessed it, but it was not yet
his property,--was not a quality of his. All that I have in my power,
upon which I have an actual claim, is my possession. But the idea of
property is higher; only that is my property which by moral action I
have appropriated to myself, and which consequently essentially belongs
to my personal life-sphere, as my free personal acquisition. A merely
inherited property or power is morally a mere possession, while an
estate or power that is acquired by labor or is morally developed, is a
property; in it I have invested my labor, my soul, my will,--it inheres
in me and in my self-created life-sphere,--is my enlarged personality
itself. Hence property has always a moral element in it,--is moral
fruit, is an acquisition. In the case of the first human beings, the
possession of Eden would have become a property, only in virtue of
their cultivating and caring for it. A moral property is inalienable;
it may, as, for example, in the case of a work of art, come into the
possession of another, but it remains the spiritual property of its
author. A slave is the possession of his master; but consorts not only
possess each other,--they appertain to each other,--each is the
property of the other. Thus in so far as the good becomes and is a
property, it is a good, a moral estate,--and hence it is such only as a
fruit of moral action. The good as an outward possession may be lost;
but when exalted into a moral property, it is permanent; to this Christ
alludes when he says: "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth,"
etc. [Matt. vi, 19, 20].
SECTION CXXXII.
The good to be attained to by moral action is, that perfection which
answers to the divine creative intention,--on the one hand, the
perfection of the individual person, and, on the other, that of the
moral community; that is, it is in part a personal, and in part a
common good. The two forms mutually condition each other, and stand
with each other in constant and closest relation; but both are further
conditioned on the moral communion with God which is aimed at by the
moral activity, and which is the highest moral goal as well as the
ground and essence of all creature-perfection in general; for God alone
is the eternally-perfect good. The real moral life-communion with God,
as distinguished from the merely natural, is consequently the absolute
good, and hence the highest good,--that which is the source and
condition of all other goods. In so far as individual man has the
highest good as his moral property, he is a child of God; in so far as
the moral community has this good inherent in itself, it is the kingdom
of God, which rests on the God-sonship of its individual members.
The thought of a moral communion, and hence also of a moral
common-good, is met with also in the extra-Christian world; the
Republic of Plato was meant to embody it. But where the common ground
of the personal good as well as of the common good, namely, communion
with God, is lacking, there this thought is realizable only as a sum
total of single goods, or only by the all-dominating despotism of the
community-organism over the individuals, as in the system of Plato. A
vital union of the two forms of good is effected only by the Christian
God-consciousness. Some form of communion with God is enjoyed by every
creature as such; this, however, is of a merely natural character, and
needs, in the case of rational creatures, to be exalted to a moral
character. As coming from the hands of nature man is not the child of
God; he becomes truly such only by free moral love to God.
The question as to the highest good,--for the heathen difficult and in
fact not truly solvable at all,--is, from an evangelically-moral
stand-point, readily answerable. There is absolutely no good realizable
or actually realized without standing in relation to God, without
springing from God as its source, and hence none for man without
personal life-communion with God [John xvii, 21; 1 John i, 3; ii, 5, 6]
who is the perfectly good One in an absolute sense [Matt. xix, 17];
only he has the highest good who is rich toward God [Luke xii, 21; Psa.
lxxiii, 25], and who has everlasting treasures in heaven [Matt. vi, 20;
1 Tim. vi, 19]. While heathen philosophers grope about in uncertainty
as to the highest good, Jehovah reveals it in all simplicity and
definiteness to the patriarch Abraham at a time when he was wavering in
faith as to the fulfillment of the prophecies made to him,--reveals it
in these words: "I am thy exceeding great reward" [Gen. xv, 1],--thou
canst aim at and attain to nothing higher; and the highest blessing of
the Old Testament is the "peace of God" [Num. vi, 26; Psa. xxix, 11].
This highest good man cannot have as a merely outward possession, as a
mere gift,--he cannot have it from nature, but only as a
morally-acquired property; even under the economy of redemption from
sin, where not merit but grace prevails, faith which is in fact a moral
work--is the necessary condition. The idea of a kingdom of
God,--unknown throughout heathendom, but prepared for and anticipated
in the Old Testament, and realized in Christianity,--presents the moral
community as in full possession of the highest good, which now becomes,
in turn, for the individual members (by whom it is enjoyed as
God-sonship) the source of higher moral perfection. In virtue of
life-communion with God the highest good bears the stamp of eternity,
in the sense of endless duration; the life of the children of God is an
everlasting life [Matt. xix, 16, 17, 29; xxv, 46; John xvii, 3; 1 John
ii, 25, and other texts], and the kingdom of God is an everlasting
kingdom.
I. THE PERSONAL PERFECTION OF THE INDIVIDUAL AS THE END OF THE MORAL ACTIVITY.
SECTION CXXXIII.
The personal perfection of the individual person is the realization and
virtualization of God-sonship, that is, of the idea of man, and of the
creative will of God as to man. The moral goal set before man, namely,
the all-sided personal perfection of the human life-powers and of their
manifestation, is, as a fruit of the collective moral activity, never
fully and definitively realized during the temporal life, but is
involved in constant progress, though at every stage of the truly moral
life it is in fact relatively realized.
To be perfect is neither an improper nor an impossible requirement upon
man; on the contrary, it is expressly presented by Christ and the
apostles as the moral goal: "Be ye therefore perfect (teleioi) even as
your Father which is in heaven is perfect" [Matt. v, 48]; "if thou wilt
be perfect, follow me" [xix, 21; Luke vi, 40; 1 Cor. ii, 6; xiv, 20;
Eph. iv, 13; Col. i, 28; 2 Tim. iii, 17; Heb. v, 14; James iii, 2]; the
term teleios implies the contents of telos, that is, the purpose and
goal of the moral life. This perfection of the creature is indeed, as
compared with the divine perfection, of a limited character; such as it
is, however, it really exists, in every case of normal development,
from the very first moment on, and it steadily advances, keeping pace
with every stage of the life-development. Christ himself, even as a
child, is presented as a pattern, while as yet he was increasing in
wisdom and in favor with God and man; that is, he was even as a child
perfect, though this perfection was not yet that of the full man's-age
of Christ [Eph. iv, 13]. Every moral being should and can be relatively
perfect at every moment of its life; even the child is to be so in the
manner of a child [1 Cor. xiii, 11]; and the final and true perfection
is not a merely conceived and never-to-be-realized goal, for such would
not be a goal at all, but it can in fact and should actually be
realized by each and all. Christ as the son of man really reached this
goal, and all who belong to him have, in virtue of their God-sonship,
both the duty and the possibility of attaining to it [Phil. iii, 12,
15; 1 Cor. xiii, 10].
SECTION CXXXIV.
All moral attainments, and hence all the elements and forms of
perfection or of the true good, are a moral possession, and hence a
property. Every possession is an enlargement of the existence, the
power and the life-sphere of the moral person, in virtue of moral
appropriation,--is a breaking down of the limits of the original
individuality, a uniting of the isolated existence with the life of the
whole. Corresponding to the distinction between special and general
appropriating (S: 104), and, from another point of view, to that
between natural and spiritual appropriating (S: 101), the possession
acquired by moral appropriating (which is at the same time necessarily
also a forming) is, on the one hand, partly of a more external
character,--bearing upon the individual as such and widening his
life-sphere, and hence, as relating to others, of an exclusive
character,--and, on the other, in part of a more inward, spiritual and,
in so far, not merely personal, character, but, on the contrary,
promotive of communion.
(a) The outward possession-legal property, temporal means--is, as the
fruit of moral labor, a real and legitimate good, and hence also a
legitimate end of moral effort, though it becomes at once sinful when
it is made the end per se, the highest good itself, when it is placed
above the inward possession and not rather vitally united with it, when
the effort for it aims merely at the enjoyment and not. also at the
moral culture and the moral communion naturally involved in it,--when
it does not become a channel of communicative love.
If appropriating is per se a moral activity, then is also the striving
after temporal possessions not only a right but also a duty.
Possessions distinguish man from the brute, and civilized man from the
savage; the Diogenic form of wisdom is by no means very profound. Labor
finds in possessions its normal fruit; possessions are labor as having
become reality. The brute is possessionless because he does not labor.
In property man ceases to be a mere isolated individual of his species;
he creates for himself a world about himself which he can call his own;
his property is the outward manifestation of his inward peculiarity.
The fact that he who possesses much is also much regarded and esteemed
in the world, is, indeed, often very hollow and baseless, though in
reality it springs from the per se correct consciousness that
possessions are the fruit of labor,--the result of moral effort. He who
acquires nothing for himself passes in the world, not without reason,
for unrespectable. Of a special virtue of possession-despising, as with
the mendicant monks, there can, in the ante-sinful state, be no
question; and even after the fall, possessions are presented as a
perfectly legitimate end of moral effort, and their being increased as
a special divine blessing. Cain and Abel possess already personal
property; and the God-blessed possessions of the patriarchs occupy a
very large place in their morally-religious life [Gen. xii. 5, 16;
xiii, 2; xiv, 14; xxiv, 22, 35, 53; xxvi, 13, 14; xxvii, 28; xxx, 27,
30, 43; xxxi, 42; xxxii, 5, 10, 13 sqq.; xxxiii, 11; xxxix, 5; xlix,
25; Exod. xxiii, 25; Lev. xxv, 21; Deut. ii, 7; vii, 13; xv, 14 sqq.;
xvi, 15, 17; xxviii, 3 sqq.; xxxiii, 13 sqq.; xxiv, 25; comp. 1 Kings
iii, 13; Psa. cvii, 38; cxii, 2, 3; cxxxii, 15].
Property being the enlarged life-sphere of the moral person,--in some
sense his enlarged personality itself,--the moral phase thereof lies
not merely in its antecedent ground, namely, labor, but also in its
moral use and application. To its enjoyment man has a moral right, as
such enjoyment is the reward of labor; but to the exclusive enjoyment
of it for himself alone he has no moral right, seeing that he is bound
to other men by love, and love manifests itself in communicative
distribution.
SECTION CXXXV.
(b) The inner possession, namely, the perfection of the personality
itself in its essence and life,--perfectly realized in the person of
the Son of man alone,--is,
(1) The perfection of knowledge, namely, wisdom; that is, that
all-sided knowledge of God which rests on a true love of God, and which
in virtue of moral effort has become a true property of the person, and
which consequently also constitutes a life-power determinative in turn
of the moral life itself,--and hence involving also a knowledge of the
being, essence, and end of created reality, especially also of one's
own life (S:S: 60, 104). As influencing the moral life, wisdom is
necessarily also practical; and as taking into view the actual
circumstances of existence and their application to the moral end, it
assumes the form of prudence.
Wisdom is presented in the Scriptures as the first and most essential
element of the highest good, and in fact always under its two phases,
as a knowledge of the truth, and as power to fulfill it. It is not a
mere knowledge in which man forgets himself in the object, not mere
science, but a knowledge which merges the person himself into the life
of the truth,--which fills the soul with vital, life-creating truth.
The object of wisdom is not this or that particular truth, but the
truth,--is the self-consistent complete whole. Knowledge is not yet
wisdom; with scantier knowledge there may be more wisdom than with a
richer knowledge; a much-knowing one may even be a great fool. Wisdom
is essentially not world-science but God-science; it is, as a
manifestation of God-sonship, never without a life in God,--is in its
essence piety; without God-knowledge and God-fearing there can be only
folly [Psa. cxi, 10; xxv, 14; Job xxviii, 28; Prov. i, 7; ix, 10].
Wisdom is more than knowledge and science, inasmuch as it always aims
at unity, at the central point, at the whole,--always unites the person
himself with God and with the All, both cognoscitively and actively; it
is moral knowing. Its essence consists not in the compass and in the
fullness of the knowledge, but in the harmony, the true foundation, the
truth and the moral potency of that which is known. There is no wisdom,
therefore, without constant moral effort; but also none which does not
itself produce a moral life. Such wisdom is presented as the most
essential element of the highest good, and to acquire it, as a high
duty [Prov. ii, 2 sqq.; iv, 5 sqq.; viii, 11; xvi, 16; xxiii, 23; John
viii, 32; xvii, 3; Acts xvii, 27; Rom. xii, 2; xvi, 19; 1 Cor. xiv, 20;
Eph. i, 18; iii, 18; iv, 13; v, 10, 17; Phil. i, 9, 10; iii, 8; iv, 8,
9; Col. i, 9, 11; iii, 10, 16; 1 Tim. ii, 4; 1 Pet. iii, 15; 2 Pet.
iii, 18; James i, 5], and the non-recognizing of the divine as deep
guilt [Rom. i, 20, 21; iii, 11; 1 Cor. i, 21; 2 Tim. iii, 7; 2 Thess.
i, 8]. Wisdom associates all knowledge with God, and uses it all in
moral self-revelation,--is pious and moral at the same time,--goes back
always to the primitive ground, and forward to the ultimate end; hence
it leaves nothing in its isolation and separateness, but brings all
things, man included, into relation to the whole, and the whole into
relation to every part; it is knowing in its truly rational character;
the fear of the Lord, it is wisdom.--As wisdom makes knowledge the full
property of the person,--as it belongs not merely to the understanding
but also to the heart, and is in fact intelligent love,--hence it is
necessarily also active life,--begets love and works from love, awakens
a striving to manifest the attained truth in the reality of life. A
wisdom which does not generate life,--which remains locked up in the
subject,--is folly [Deut. iv, 6; Prov. viii, 11 sqq.; James iii, 13,
17].
Prudence (phronesis, different from sophia, Eph. i, 8) is indeed in the
sphere of sinful humanity not identical with wisdom, and can even exist
as a merely worldly quality apart therefrom; but where sin is not yet
actual, this difference is merely formal. Wisdom, as essential
rationality itself, embraces truth per se as a harmonious whole;
prudence, on the contrary, takes into account actual reality with a
view to bringing it into relation to the moral idea as embraced by
reason,--in order to find for the moral idea its realization in each
conjuncture, and the means thereto; hence it is simply wisdom as
relating to specific real circumstances. Hence true prudence can
neither exist without wisdom, nor wisdom without prudence, and moral
duty involves both of them in inseparable unity. The harmonizing of
prudence with open-hearted simplicity becomes difficult only in a world
of sin. Considerateness and circumspectness are designations of
prudence as applied in cases difficult of decision [Luke xiv, 28, 29],
especially in so far as it guards against the promptings of over-rash
feelings.
SECTION CXXXVI.
(2) The perfection of feeling, as a moral fruit, is the feeling of pure
pleasure in the divine, and of unmitigated repugnance to the ungodly,
and, as based on faith, the feeling of pure joy which springs from the
consciousness of the morally-wrought harmony of one's own existence
with God and with the universe. As relating to existence other than
that of the moral subject, this perfection is perfect love as a power
grown essential and inherent in the personality; in relation to the
moral subject himself it is the perfect bliss of the child of God, the
repose of the soul in God.
So long as the feeling of self is not yet reduced to full harmony with
the love of God (S: 92), so long also is feeling, as relating to the
godly and the ungodly, not pure and not decided. As the ear must first
be made skillful by attentiveness and practice in order to be able
readily to distinguish beautiful from discordant notes, so also must
feeling, first be made sensitive by moral exercise in order to be able,
at every moment, unhesitatingly to love and to hate at once in the
right manner. Such decisiveness, such purity of feeling, constitutes an
essential part of the perfection of the life in God, that is, of
blessedness; blessed are they who are pure of heart; blessed they who
find no occasion of offense in Christ and in the ways of God [Matt. xi,
6.] Mere joy is not yet blessedness; the merely natural pleasure in
existence, even were it of a Paradisaical character, is not enough to
satisfy the spiritual nature of man; only that which is morally
wrought, or at least morally appropriated, renders blessed. Even a
normal child rejoices more in its own playful creating than in mere
eating and drinking. The nine Beatitudes of Christ [Matt. v] relate,
all of them, to the moral, and not one of them to a mere state of
enjoyment. All blessedness, however, is love, and true love is
blessedness; but only morally attained love is true love; even love to
God becomes truly blissful only when it is the expression of
already-attained God-Sonship. The moral man feels blissful when he
views the harmony of being not as simply immediately existing and as
merely contemplated by himself, but as in moral freedom recognized,
willed, and realized by himself,--namely, in so far as, on the one
hand, those features in the objective world which are originally as yet
exterior and uncongenial to man are overcome, and the dominion of man
over nature realized, and in so far as, on the other, a spiritually
moral world is brought into being with which the individual knows
himself in moral harmony; but the consciousness of this double harmony
produces loving blessedness only when it rests on the consciousness of
a morally virtualized filial relation to God. True blessedness exists
only in union with God; peace of soul only in the eternal.
That such blessedness is not simply an inheritance in the future but
the destination even of the present life, is implied in the moral idea
itself, as well as in the thought of the divine love. God has not
appointed us unto wrath, but to obtain blessedness [1 Thess. v, 9];
"but whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth
therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this
man shall be blessed in his deed" [James i, 25]; though this thought
may hold good on the part of one redeemed by grace, only under certain
limitations, yet it is unconditionally valid of man per se and as
unfallen; with him moral activity is per se blessedness, and there is
no blessedness without moral activity. "Blessed are they that hear the
word of God and keep it" [Luke xi, 28],--keep it not merely in memory
but in their heart, in love and in volition; "blessed are they that do
his commandments" [Rev. xxii, 14].
SECTION CXXXVII.
(3) The perfection of the moral will, that is, the full moral freedom
of self-determination as effected by wisdom and love, the perfect
mastery over one's self, the completed possession of one's self,
constitutes the fully developed personal character. As distinguished
from all mere fortuitous character-forming, the truly moral character
is the copy of the divine holiness as attained to through free moral
culture,--the moral law as become the real free property of man, the
harmony of the human with the divine will as become a dominant power, a
moral nature, so that consequently the willing and accomplishing of the
ungodly becomes to man a moral impossibility,--so that the love to God
becomes perfect hatred against sin. The constantly advancing
development of the moral striving toward this holiness, constitutes the
ever-progressive sanctification of the soul, the ultimate fruit of
which is the perfect freedom of the will, and as contained therein the
enjoyment of blessedness.
In that the moral activity becomes fact, that is, becomes a moral
possession of the person, it transforms the original, as yet,
undetermined will-freedom into a determined moral will-quality, into
moral character. Character-formation illustrates clearly the nature of
moral freedom. An, as yet, undetermined character has a much wider
possibility of choice in single cases than a definitely shaped one; a
characterless man is unreliable because his freedom has no moral
determinedness, but is merely external freedom of choice. Character is
reliable, and upon the degree of its firmness rests the confidence
which it inspires; we know in advance with certainty how, in a definite
moral conjuncture, such and such a character will choose. This is now
surely no limitation of freedom, but rather its moral maturity. The
freedom is all the more perfect, true, and mature, the more it is
character-firm, the more it has moral determinedness; and the highest
moral freedom is that where the person can no longer waver in any moral
question, where it has become for him a moral impossibility to choose
the immoral,--and this is the state of holiness. Holiness is related to
innocence as morally-acquired good to ante-moral natural good--as moral
property to mere possession.
Human holiness as a copy of the divine holiness differs from the latter
in this, that with God holiness constitutes his essence itself, and the
possibility of sin is not in any sense conceivable; whereas human
holiness is simply a morally-acquired good, and presupposes the
possibility of sin, which in fact it has morally overcome. God's
holiness is eternal; human holiness is, in its true character, the goal
of development,--depends on progressive sanctification, which advances
from a mere non-willing of the sinful to hatred against it and to
abhorrence of it. The moral requirement of complete heart-purity and
holiness may not in any manner be lowered, as if a limited measure
thereof were enough, and as if a lower requirement were to be made of
feebly constituted man than, e. g., of the angels. According to the
testimony of Christ, men are in fact to become equal to the angels
[isangeloi, Luke xx, 36]; and also in their moral essence they should
and must not remain below them. Man ought (and the word ought expresses
the fundamental condition of all morality in general) to become morally
perfect, and hence holy. This requirement is fully maintained even in
the state of sinfulness, where primarily, that is, before the
completion of redemption, the entire fulfilling of the same was not
possible. The legislation from Sinai places this moral requirement, as
the fundamental idea of morality, in great prominence: "Ye shall be
holy, for I am holy, the Lord your God" [Lev. xi, 44, 45; xix, 2; xx,
7]; and the apostles adopt the same words as fully valid also for
Christians [1 Pet. i, 15, 16]. The utterances of the Scriptures
elsewhere fully harmonize therewith [Eph. i, 4; iv, 24; 1 Thess. iii,
13; comp. Matt. v, 48; Luke i, 75; and other passages], and the fact
that the faithful of God are so frequently styled "saints" is clearly
an expression of their moral destination.
Man is originally innocent, but not yet holy; he is not, however, to
remain merely innocent, but is to advance to real holiness. Man is
created in innocence unto holiness. The mere unconscious retaining of
the first innocence would be a lingering in the child-consciousness;
and the going beyond it,--not of course in the direction of sin but
only in that of conscious holiness,--was the true normal course;
Christ's holiness was not mere innocence. As a morally-acquired
property, holiness as distinguished from the mere possession of
innocence, is a permanent quality, and constitutes the moral character
itself of man; he for whom there is yet possible a single sinful
moment, has not yet attained to holiness. There is not only a natural
but also a moral must; and when the child Jesus says: "Wist ye not that
I must be about my Father's business?" [Luke ii, 49], this is a direct
reference to this moral "must" of a holy soul. Holiness is consequently
not a quality of single actions, but it is character-peculiarity; not
the single volitional act, the single frame of mind is holy, but the
heart itself. This purity of heart is not a merely negative state, a
mere non-presence of sin, for that would be only innocence, but it is a
moral fruit, a morally-acquired power over sin, and hence where sin has
once actually existed it cannot be attained to by a mere ceasing to
sin, but only by ceaselessly militant santification. Sanctification
(hagiasmos) is consequently by no means a merely negative bearing, even
in the ante-sinful state, but is a positive forming of the will and
heart unto holiness. The sanctification mentioned in the Scriptures [1
Cor. i, 30; 2 Cor. vii, 1; 1 John iii, 3; Heb. xii, 14, and other
passages] designates of course only the putting off of existing
sinfulness as taking place in virtue of redemption; but when Christ
says of himself: "For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also
might be sanctified through the truth" [John xvii, 19], this
self-sanctification of the holy One is indeed primarily to be
understood of his giving himself in sacrifice, but it alludes at the
same time also to the perfecting of the moral life-development of the
Son of Man unto the plenary possession of morally-acquired holiness in
his character as man; such sanctification is the duty of man as man.
Through progressive sanctifying culture of the will man becomes
perfectly master over his heart, over his will,--the moral becomes easy
to him, becomes his second nature, whereas his first nature is the as
yet not morally formed one. The will of the person is now no longer
different from the divine will, but it is, in full freedom, at one
therewith; the divine will has fully become the inner essence and the
vital power of the disposition of the person, not merely in general but
also in particular, so that in each special case the will with
unfailing certainty chooses the right,--even as a true artist possesses
full mastery over his hand, so that it never introduces a false tone or
makes a false stroke. Practice leads to mastery; and the
morally-matured man is master over his own will.
It is only in this mastery that man is truly free, namely, in that he
has then overcome every thing in himself which, as a
morally-to-be-mastered material, was as yet different from the moral
idea itself. But freedom is bliss; he who has become truly free in his
will is thereby necessarily also happy. Master over himself, he is also
at the same time master over all that is unspiritual, over nature; and
in having put himself into complete and free harmony with God, he
participates in the lordship of the absolute Spirit over nature. "The
Father that dwelleth in me he doeth the works," says Christ in
reference to his miraculous works--the works of the Spirit upon nature;
"verily, verily," says Christ to his disciples, "he that believeth on
me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater than these shall
he do" [John xiv, 10, 12]; for God who dwells in him, as he in God, the
same does the works; having become free in God, man has nothing more
either within or without himself which could prove a hinderance to the
moral will of the rational spirit,--which would say, No! to the
striving of the Holy Spirit; as an expression of true and complete
freedom, and not as the caprice of the immature and unsanctified
spirit, this promise of Christ holds good for all his faithful
followers. The hard rind of unspiritual nature must be broken through,
the longing of the vanity-bound creature must be fulfilled; nature must
be "delivered from the bondage of corruption unto the glorious liberty
of the children of God" [Rom. viii, 19-22]; all that is natural must be
spiritualized, must be exalted into the complete untrammeled service of
the free spirit; such is the freedom, such the blessedness of the
children of God.
In the possession of knowledge, of purified feeling, and of the mastery
of the will, as attained to by moral appropriating and self-forming,
man becomes morally cultured, as distinguished from the as yet morally
immature and crude man; and in such culture he is truly free. The very
first man was called unto perfect culture, and it is quite the opposite
of correct to conceive, with Rousseau, the first human beings as living
in a state of happy barbarism. As far back as the Biblical account
reaches we find even in the state of sin no trace of an actual
cultureless barbarism. The fact that Adam was to till his garden was of
itself an implication of his destination to culture, for barbarians
never till the soil; Adam's sons appear, from the very first, as
persons of culture with a definite savagery-excluding- calling; Cain
was a founder of villages [Gen. iv, 17]; and among his immediate
descendants appear inventors of manifold articles of skill [Gen. iv,
21, 22]; and from that time forth we find traces of a progressive
culture. The progenitors of the Israelites are by no means half-savage
nomads; their wandering-about is only a temporary state of necessity,
for they are in search of a home; and their entire form of life gives
evidence indeed of great simplicity, but yet also of high spiritual and
moral culture. True culture is always a fruit of moral effort, and a
culture that aims at mere temporal enjoyment and profit is but a
deceptive self-defeating counterfeit.
SECTION CXXXVIII.
(c) In that the morally-good becomes an acquired possession of man, his
real property, it has become an essential element of his moral nature,
and hence is not an inert state, but an active power generative of new
moral life,--has become a creative, operative disposition, and is
consequently itself per se a directly active motive to moral action.
The morally-good has become virtue, which is accordingly, on the one
hand, a good not innate and embraced in the nature itself of man, but a
morally-acquired possession, and on the other a power generative in
turn itself of the good.
"All Scripture, given by inspiration of God, is also profitable for
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in
righteousness, that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished
unto all good works" [2 Tim. iii, 16, 17]; the moral perfection
attained to by the sanctifying activity is itself in turn a stimulus to
the good, a capacitation, a skilledness and power for moral activity;
such is the inner idea of virtue. Man as come into possession of virtue
is no longer the original man possessed of merely naturally-moral
power, but he is man as armed with morally acquired and hence
heightened power. There are no innate virtues, but only innate
capabilities of virtue. The merely natural man has moral freedom as a
simple and as yet undetermined freedom of choice; the virtuous man has
his freedom as exalted to a determinedness for the good; he has no
longer an equally balanced choice between good and evil, but his
morally acquired peculiarity of character inclines spontaneously to the
good. Man can never merely possess virtue, he must let it be operative;
a dormant virtue is none at all. Hence, varying from the usual view
which distinguishes and contrasts goods and virtues, we consider virtue
directly as a good. The contrasting of virtue as a power and of goods
as a possession is inaccurate; all power is a good, and every good is a
heightening of power; hence men of the world seek so zealously after
earthly goods, as they thereby enlarge their power. That virtue is not
a dormant possession, but strictly an operative power, does not make it
differ essentially from all other goods; no real property exists merely
to lie idle, no talent is to be buried; but it is to be put to usury
and made constantly to acquire more. Money is a good; for him, however,
who does not put it to use, it does not really exist; it becomes a real
good only when it becomes a power, when it is employed in heightened
life-activity. Virtue, however, is a much higher good than that which
is given us directly and from nature, or as an outward possession.
In the New Testament the notion of virtue is variously expressed; arete
[Phil. iv, 8; 1 Peter ii, 9; 2 Peter i, 3, 5] is not strictly virtue,
but is rather the notion of the morally good in general. Usually the
notion of virtue is expressed by dikaiosune, in so far as this quality
is a personal possession [Luke i, 75; Rom. vi, 13; Eph. iv, 24; v, 9,
and other passages], also by hagiosune [1 Thess. iii, 13], by
agathosune [Rom. xv, 14; Eph. v, 9], and likewise also by eusebeia, in
so far as the root of virtue rather than virtue itself is meant; for
Christian virtue, charisma is also used, as designating its resting
upon divine grace. In the Old Testament the notion proper of virtue is
wanting; under the predominance of the thought of the law and of right,
the morally correct character is designated as "righteousness," in
virtue of its answering to the law and claims of God; hence this is
merely a designation of the form. Before the full accomplishment of
redemption, the inner essence of virtue was neither fully realizable
nor comprehensible.
SECTION CXXXIX.
Inasmuch as all moral motive consists in love (S: 91), and inasmuch as
virtue, as a moral property, is also an actuating power, hence virtue
is essentially love to God, and is consequently per se not multiple but
single. In so far, however, as the relation of this one-fold virtue may
be different both as to the moral person and as to the object, it
appears under the form of a plurality of virtues, which, however, as
merely different phases and manifestation-forms of the one virtue, are
never to be entirely separated from each other, and can never exist
alone. These diverse manifestation-forms of virtue may be reduced to
four cardinal virtues:--(1) Moral love preserves itself for the object
in its proper relation to it, and thus manifests itself in the virtue
of fidelity.--(2) Moral love preserves the object in its moral rights,
and hence in its legitimate peculiarity,--as the virtue of
justness.--(3) Moral love preserves the moral subject himself in his
moral rights, and hence at the same time within his moral limits, in
that it places upon the moral activity of the same a definite
measure,--the virtue of temperateness.--(4) Moral love preserves at
once both itself, the moral object and the moral subject in their moral
rights, in that it actively opposes all hinderances that stand in the
way of it and of its realization,--the virtue of courage.
We do not adopt the Platonic classification of the virtues which has
found its way into a large portion of works on Christian ethics, for it
is only by violence that it can be accommodated to the Christian
consciousness. The cardinal virtues which we adopt, result logically
and naturally from the notion of love as a disposition of the soul; and
it is, by no means, accidental that they correspond to the four
temperaments. The so-called temperament-virtues are simply the natural
germs of the real virtues. The virtue of courage corresponds to the
warm or choleric temperament; that of temperateness to the cold or
phlegmatic; that of justness to the quick or sanguine,--for sanguine
persons are very receptive for whatever is objective, accepting it just
as it presents itself, yielding themselves to it, doing it no violence;
sanguine persons are very companionable. The virtue of fidelity
corresponds to the melancholic temperament, which, directed inwardly
and dwelling within itself, and largely closed to outward influences,
is not easily led astray.--The four virtues are so intimately connected
with each other that each contains within itself in some measure all
the others. Temperateness is justness in so far as it restrains man
from that which does not become him; it is fidelity in so far as it
regards love to God and to God's will as having the highest claims, and
does not allow the individual self to become too prominent; and it is
courage in so far as it actively confines the unspiritual and the
irrational within their proper limits. Justness is fidelity in so far
as it preserves love for and verifies it upon the object; it is
temperateness in so far as it respects every-where the measure and the
limits of the moral person and of the object; and it is courage in so
far as it carries out and vindicates the just. Fidelity is courage in
so far as it asserts itself in the active overcoming of all
hinderances; it is justness in so far as it manifests to the object
only the measure of love which is really felt for it; and for the same
reason it is temperateness. Temperateness and fidelity correspond to
each other in so far as they both retain the moral person in a proper
bearing in relation to the object; justness and courage correspond to
each other in so far as they both resist all influences that are
unfriendly to the moral. Temperateness and courage are purely human
virtues in so far as both presuppose a creature-limit of the moral
personality, and hence they can in no sense be predicated of God;
fidelity and justness are also divine virtues [1 John i, 9] because
they presuppose only a difference of the personal subject from the
object, and a claim of the moral. The former two have in their
manifestation a negating character,--presuppose an antagonism in which
one phase must be made subordinate; the latter two bear a more
affirmative character,--are an express recognition and carrying out of
the moral rights of the object. Of a conflicting of the virtues. with
each other there is no possibility.
Of the cardinal virtues here presented, three coincide with the
Platonic virtues; but in the place of wisdom our classification gives
fidelity. With the Greeks the making of wisdom the fundamental virtue
was quite consequential; for all the other virtues were a fruit of
moral knowledge, but not of love. From a Christian stand-point, where
the moral freedom of the will is conceived more highly and is not
placed in so unconditional a relation of dependence upon knowledge as
with the Greeks, and where, consequently, virtue inheres essentially in
the love-inspired will, wisdom is indeed conceived as a high
morally-to-be-acquired good, as the presupposition and attendant of all
virtue, and is also in fact closely associated with love, (S: 135), but
still it cannot be regarded as a virtue proper. The first and most
essential manifestation-form of virtue as love is persistent love,
namely, fidelity, which consequently cannot be classified under any one
of the other virtues as a subordinate manifestation, but it must be
placed at the head, as the virtue dominating all the others.
(1) Fidelity (pistis), thrown very much into the background in heathen
ethics, for the reason that, there, the absolutely firm basis of all
morality, faith in the true God, was lacking, comes in the Christian
consciousness into the foreground. Human virtue, as lasting love, is an
image of the divine fidelity, which is presented in the Scriptures as
one of the most prominent of the divine attributes, and is almost
always associated with love, grace, and mercy [Gen. ix, 9 sqq.; Exod.
xxxiv, 6; Deut. vii, 9; ix, 5; xxxii, 4; 1 Sam. xii, 22; Psa. lxxxvi,
15; 1 Cor. i, 9; x, 13; 1 Thess. v, 24; 2 Thess. iii, 3; 2 Tim. ii,
13]. God's fidelity is loving grace; the fidelity of man is humble
obedience, and is hence a manifestation of piety,--is, in ground and
essence, fidelity toward the faithful God [Matt. xxv, 21; 1 Cor. iv,
2]; the holy walk of the Christian is summed up in the word: "Be thou
faithful unto death" [Rev. ii, 10; comp. Psa. lxxxv, 11, 12; Matt. x,
22; Luke xvi, 10-12; 1 Cor. vii, 25].--True fidelity relates not to a
mere idea, to a mere law, but to a spiritual reality, and chiefly to
the personal spirit; love loves only a loving spirit. A merely
conceived law cannot be loved; hence there can be no real fidelity to
such, which is not in reality fidelity to the holy law-giver. Fidelity
toward man is morally without anchor unless it is based on fidelity to
God; for fidelity can be based only on a perfectly firm foundation.
Fidelity to a creature in the absence of fidelity to God, would not be
a virtue but sin. Fidelity is the truthfulness of love; a changing love
is mere inclination, and is not moral; truth changes not, and hence
also moral love changes not.--As relating to industrial activity in a
temporal calling, fidelity appears as diligence, which is only then
morally good, and hence a virtue, when it is a conscious persistence in
our God-appointed moral task [Prov. x, 4; xii, 27; 1 Thess. iv, 11].
(2) Justness or righteousness is the constant willingness to the actual
recognition of the rights of every moral personality, as well those of
God as those of man; it is love in the fulfilling of the command:
"Render unto Cesar the things which are Cesar's, and unto God the
things that are God's" [Matt. xxii, 21],--the imitating of the
righteousness of God which gives to each that which is his due. In the
Scriptures justness or righteousness is one of the most important of
the moral notions, and it appears even in its widest sense as the
respecting of the suum cuique; it is a manifestation of love, and a
never fully to be absolved debt [Rom. xiii, 8]; and in so far as it is
a manifestation of reciprocal love it is thankfulness (S: 125). It is
for the reason that justness lovingly fulfills the claims of God that
it can lay claim to the essence of virtue in general; it is virtue in
so far as virtue is a disposition of soul recognizing the claims of God
upon us. Christ sums up all our moral relations to our fellows under
the one head, justness, and makes of this, in its fuller sense. the
fundamental idea of morality: "All things whatsoever ye would that men
should do to you, do ye even so to them, for this is the law and the
prophets" [Matt. vii, 12]; this is not merely ordinary civil justice,
but the higher,--that which is an expression of love. But all love
seeks to maintain the harmony of existence, and hence the divine order
of the world, that is, the rights of whatever truly is; and all human
justness is a copy of the divine [Deut. x, 17, 18.]
Justness adapts itself to the differences of existence and of rights;
God has different rights from those of man, and among men there exist,
even in an unfallen state, different rights, according to their
differing conditions and relations; parents have different rights from
those of the children, governors from those of the governed; justness
gives not to each the same, but to each that which is his due [Rom.
xiii, 7-9], and thus realizes the harmony of existence. Even toward
nature there is a justness, inasmuch as nature, in virtue of its being
good, has a claim upon the moral spirit (S: 127). Real justness
therefore presupposes wisdom; its practice becomes difficult, however,
only where the harmony of existence is already disturbed by sin. The
Scriptures describe justness manifoldly in its single manifestations
[e. g. Lev. xix; Job xxxi; Psa. xv; ci; Ezek. xviii, 6-9; Isa. i, 17;
Jer. xxii, 3; Zech. vii, 9, 10; viii, 16, 17; Luke vi, 38]; the
Decalogue itself is but a description thereof. That Christian justness
or righteousness is not a merely human virtue but essentially a gift of
grace, need here only to be mentioned in passing. As virtue simply and
purely, it appears only in the person of Christ [1 John ii, 1, 29; Acts
iii, 14; 1 Pet. iii, 18].
(3) Temperateness, the self-discipline of the heart, the sophrosune of
the Greeks, is presented in the New Testament in the narrower sense of
enkrateia, while sophrosune, has, here also, only the more specific
sense of modesty and irreproachableness of behavior [1 Tim. ii, 9;
perhaps only in verse 15 in a somewhat wider sense], but the adjective
sophron is used in a more general sense [1 Tim. iii, 2; Tit. i, 8; ii,
5]. Temperateness in the wider and full sense is the self-restraining
of the subject within his normal moral limits, a subordinating of all
self-seeking desires to unconditional obedience to the moral law, and
hence, on the one hand, as relating to sensuousness, a controlling of
the sensuous desires by the moral reason, and, on the other, as
relating to the spiritual, a controlling of self-love by love to God
and to our neighbor,--a maintaining of the rights of the rational
spirit in its true essence. That temperateness is at once also justness
is self-evident; it is but another phase of the same virtue. Even as
relating to the sensuous desires it is also justness, in so far as
these are restrained within their moral limits out of regard to the
higher rights of the spirit. Modesty, patience, and obediateness are
special phases of this virtue; so also are shame, pudicity and
chastity, as a keeping of sexual sensuousness within bounds, a
subordinating of it to its higher moral conditions; shame and pudicity
are rather the inner elements, the state of the heart, and chastity
rather the outward manifestation; they are an expression of the fact
that this sensuous instinct has absolutely no right per se, but only in
the service of wedlock-love.--Temperateness presupposes indeed a
difference and a possible antagonism between selfish desires
(especially the sensuous ones) and the morally-rational consciousness,
though not an actually-existing antagonism and opposition. In its
manifestation it is more a negating virtue than justness, and yet its
essence is very affirmative.--This virtue becomes most difficult where
the individual energy stands forth most strongly over against general,
rational right, and hence in the period of youthful vigor when the
consciousness of personal strength and of self-will delights to cope
with objective barriers, and seeks to cast them off as trameling
fetters,--when the strongly self-conscious individuality delights to
enjoy this consciousness, whether in the enjoyment of sensuous
pleasure, or in that of unbounded freedom, or in that of
will-assertion. Fidelity, justness, and courage are, for vigorous
youth, much more easily attained to and preserved than the virtue of
temperateness; but as all the virtues are only different phases of
virtue in general, and as they are all connected with each other in a
vital unity, hence the violation of one of them is necessarily also a
violation of the others; intemperateness is, in every respect, per se
also an infidelity, an unjustness and a cowardliness, and it leads
directly to a further development of these vices.
(4) Courage, the moral readiness to combat against whatever opposes the
moral end,--expressed by the Greeks by the more limited andreia, and in
the Scriptures by the higher and more inward notion of parrhesia [Eph.
iii, 12; 1 Tim. iii, 10, etc.],--is the being joyous and confident in
the carrying out of the moral idea on the basis of hopeful faith [Matt.
v, 12; Acts ii, 29; iv, 13, 29, 31; ix, 27, 28; xiii, 46; xiv, 3;
xviii, 26; xix, 8; xxvi, 26; xxviii, 31; Rom. viii, 31 sqq.; 2 Cor.
iii, 12; v, 6, 8; xii, 10; Eph. iii, 12; vi, 19, 20; Phil. i, 20; 1
Thess. ii, 2; Heb. xii, 3; Psa. cxviii, 5 sqq.]. The moral life of the
Christian is a constant struggle [Luke xiii, 24; 1 Tim. vi, 12] as well
against the outward hinderances of the moral life as also against the
inner opposing desires and against carnal sloth and fear. Though both
these forms of hinderance do not hold good in a strict sense for the
unfallen state, still we must doubtless admit that there were
relatively corresponding relations of a normal kind. During the
development of man toward his ultimate perfection there constantly
exists an, as yet, extra moral reality, namely, nature within and
without him, which is to be brought within the dominion of moral
reason, and which is, as extra-moral, also per se a barrier that is to
be overcome by moral effort; however, it is not an active antagonism,
and the effort does not involve suffering. Self-love, in itself
perfectly legitimate, needs also to be brought into perfect
subordination to the love of God, and the mastering of it requires
conflict and courage. This "parrhaesia" is not mere feeling, not mere
in4vard peace, but it is essentially a combat-courting courage, a
persistence in the moral struggle in virtue of joyous trust in God.
Absolutely sure of victory, it fears nothing and undauntedly carries
out what it undertakes.
SECTION CXL.
In so far as God himself is the object of love, and in so far as, in
the creature, the divine phase, the image of God, is brought into
prominence, the above four virtues appear under a special form
expressive of the essence of piety, as piety-virtues, which, however,
do not stand along-side of the other virtues, but are in fact the
highest and God-directed phase of the same. Fidelity as relating to God
appears as moral faith; justness as moral devotedness or pious
obedience; temperateness as filially-pious humility, as
child-mindedness; and courage as hope or confidence.
The piety-virtues, only partially corresponding to the so-called
theological virtues, are the essence proper, the ground, the kernel and
the crown of the virtues in general,--are neither super-ordinate nor
co-ordinate to the four cardinal virtues, but are their essential
substance and spirit itself.
1. Faith, designated in Scripture by the same expression with fidelity,
is the loving response to God's fidelity to us, and, as an expression
of our fidelity toward the faithful God, is a high moral
requirement,--is a loving confiding of our own being and life to the
faithful love and truthfulness of God, a holding-fast of love to God.
Were faith a mere holding for true, then it would not be a moral
requirement, and hence the possession of it not a virtue; as fidelity,
however, it is a virtue (S: 113). Faith is reckoned to man for justness
or righteousness [Rom. iv, 3; Gal. iii, 6], for the reason that, as
fidelity, it is itself justness toward God, and the root and essence of
all righteousness.
2. Obedience toward God, moral decotedness, hupakoe, is the inclination
and willingness that God's claim upon us should be perfectly realized
in our moral conduct, and hence that we should do that which, as God's
creditors, we owe to Him [Rom. viii, 12]; we meet God's claim upon us
only by perfect, voluntary and joyous submission to his will [Exod.
xix, 8; xxiv, 3, 7; Deut. iv; xi, 1; xii, 1, 32; xiii, 4, 18; Jer. vii,
23; Luke i, 38; James iv, 7; 1 Pet. i, 2, 14, 22; comp. Gen. vi, 22;
vii, 5; xii, 4; xxi, 13 sqq.; xxii, 1 sqq.]; the obedient are by that
very fact the just [Hos. xiv, 9; Mal. iii, 18; Matt. xxv, 37; 1 John
iii, 7]; obedience is the fruit of faith [Heb. xi, 8], the expression
of the child-mindedness of believers toward the Father. The Son of man
is the holy pattern of obedience [Rom. v, 19; Gal. iv, 4; Phil. ii, 8;
Heb. v, 8; Isa. liii].
3. Humility, tapeinophrosune, the moral and reverential confining of
ourselves within the limits fixed by God for us as creatures and for
each of us, in his special moral calling, is an absolute duty even of
sinless man, inasmuch as the moral creature, as related to God, is and
has nothing which is not to be recognized as depending upon God's
support; hence it holds good also of the angels [Col. ii, 18], and of
Christ as the Son of man in his subordination to God [Matt. xi, 29;
comp. xx, 28; Phil. ii, 6-8; Heb. xii, 2; John xiii, 4 sqq.]. All moral
humility is at bottom humility before God [James iv, 10; comp. Gen.
xxxii, 10; Luke xviii, 14], even as the first sin consisted in a lack
of humility; when humility before men does not rest on this ground, it
sinks to abjectness and servile-mindedness; it is only in humility
before God that man learns to harmonize humility before men with a
proper respect for his own moral dignity. All humility rests on faith
and is also obedience; its essence, however, is a keeping within
bounds, a self-retention within our divinely-appointed position [Matt.
v, 3; xxiii, 11; Luke xxii, 24 sqq.; Acts xx, 19; Rom. xii, 3, 16; Eph.
iv, 1, 2; Phil. ii, 3; Col. iii, 12; 1 Pet. v, 5; James iv, 6].
Child-like humility aims not at high things, but only at the highest,
which in fact are accessible only to child-mindedness,--retains always
toward God its filial character [Matt. xviii, 3, 4]. Humility is a
purely Christian virtue; to Greek ethics it was almost unknown (S: 21).
4. Hope, elpis, mentioned in connection with faith and love as a high
virtue [1 Cor. xiii, 13], directs itself with firm confidence toward
the highest good as the goal to be attained to, toward the idea of the
good [Rom. viii, 24], and is not a mere expecting of a future
happiness, but a joyful trusting faith-born confidence that God means
it well with us, and will also actually enable us to reach our moral
goal, provided we honestly strive toward it,--is, in a word, that moral
courage in God that is sure of its victory, and that has consequently
already overcome all inward obstacles to the outward victory; it is not
merely an involuntary state of feeling, but a morally-acquired good.
All hope is faith [Heb. xi, 1], but it is also moral self-surrender and
child-like humility, for it expects the victory not from itself but
from God. The hope that is fixed merely upon created things is vain and
sinful; but moral hoping in God does not end in disappointment [Rom. v,
5], and all moral courage is based upon it [Psa. ix, 10; xxv, 2; xxxi,
15; xl, 4; lvi, 4 sqq.; lxii, 6; xci, 2; cxii, 7; John xvi, 33; Rom.
iv, 18; v, 2, 4, 5; xii, 12; Phil. iii, 1; iv, 4; 1 Cor. i, 10; iii,
12, etc.]. God is a God of hope [Rom. xv, 13], because all hope is
based on him, and relates to his promises. The word of the faithful God
is the ground, the contents and the vitality of all true hope. Hope is
a virtue belonging essentially only to the kingdom of God; among
heathens only the Persians have as much as a darkly-groping hope; the
Greeks looked but dismally into the future, and their ethics knows
nothing of hope as a virtue; in the Old Testament, however, we meet
with it almost on every page; it is the key-note of the
religiously-moral life, constantly bursting out in inspired strains;
the Christian's hope, as fulfilled in Christ, awakens and gives ground
for new hope.
As all virtue whatever is a force and a motive to moral action, much
more is this true of the piety-virtues. All moral action directs itself
essentially toward a yet to be attained good, and which consequently
exists primarily only in thought; hence the moral motive is not merely
love to an existing entity, but at the same time also love to a, as
yet, not existing one, to a merely conceived one, the realization of
which, however, is, in virtue of our love to the truly existing
primative ground of all morality, absolutely sure to us,--hence it is,
essentially, faith in the living and truthful God, and hope of the
realization of the highest good. In virtue of this pious believing and
hoping, as springing from our love to God, fidelity in our temporal
calling becomes joyous perseverance; and in our working for the
spiritual and the eternal, it becomes enthusiasm.
Observation. The systematic development of the cardinal virtues has
ever been one of the most weighty and difficult points in ethics. Plato
was the first to present the four virtues, which were adopted by Sts.
Ambrose and Augustine, and which then held sway through the entire
Middle Ages and up to the most recent times; and to these were added
and superordinated, without any clear connection, the three theological
virtues (S: 31). The Greek classification of the virtues is, however,
entirely unadapted to the Christian notion of virtue, as the violent
construction of them, to which even Augustine had to resort, abundantly
manifests; while with the Greeks the fundamental virtue was wisdom, in
Christianity it is love, love to the loving, personal God; this love to
God was entirely lacking to the Greeks, because with them its certain
object was also lacking. Protestant ethics sought out, therefore, with
a correcter consciousness, new paths, and that too from the very
beginning (S: 37). The three cardinal virtues of Calvin: sobrietas,
justitia, pietas, do not, however, exhaust the material, and they admit
of no proper organic union, because pietas is not co-ordinate to the
other two, but superordinate. Schleiermacher's cardinal virtues (S:
48): wisdom, love, discretion and perseverance, are, in spite of all
the dialectical skill bestowed in their development, of a merely
artificial character, and are least of all adapted to Christian
ethics,--to which in fact he does not apply them; the Platonic virtues
admit of a much more natural development. In the system of
Schleiermacher, love is by no means presented in its full Christian
significancy, least of all as love to God (which is in fact regarded as
an unapt expression), but it is presented only as the "vivifying
virtue, as working forth out of itself into the world, namely, into
nature,"--as manifesting reason in its action upon nature; reason is
the loving element, nature the loved; love to God is true only as love
to nature (Syst. S:S: 296, 303 sqq.); this is almost the very opposite
of the Christian notion of love. C. F. Schmid accepts this
classification under a more Christian form, without, however,
developing it in greater fullness (Christl. Sittenl., p. 528).--Most
peculiar of all is Rothe's classification (Eth. 1 ed., S: 645 sqq.). He
gives two virtues of the self-consciousness or rationality, and two
virtues of self-activity or freedom. (1.) Individually-determined
rationality is geniality,--aptness for an absolutely individual
cognizing, so that the same can absolutely be accomplished by no other
person-the artistic virtue proper; to it belong courage, composedness,
modesty, grace, sympathy, confidence, etc. (2.) Universally-determined
rationality is wisdom--aptness for a universal cognizing, so that the
same may absolutely be accomplished by every other spirit in the same
manner; it appears under the forms of considerateness, impartialness,
sobriety, instructiveness, benevolence, fairness, etc. (3.)
Individually determined freedom is originality, the virtue which
specifically qualifies for individual forming,--the social virtue
proper; to it belong valor, temperateness, chastity, dignity,
unselfishness, fidelity, etc. (4.) Universally determined freedom is
the strength which leads to a universal forming, that is, to laboring
and acquiring,--the public or civic virtue proper; it appears under the
forms of persistence, patience, self-control, eloquence, beneficence,
magnanimity, etc.
II. MORAL COMMUNION AS A FRUIT OF THE MORAL LIFE.
SECTION CXLI.
All moral activity is of a communion-forming character, and all true
communion is an expression of love,--in nature an expression of
immanent divine love, in humanity, an expression of human love. The
highest end of the moral life is indeed the full morally-acquired
communion with God, but man, as an individual being placed in natural
and spiritual relations to other creatures, fulfills his moral destiny
not in an exclusive communion with God, but only in a communing at the
same time with the children of God, and hence he has it as a moral duty
to form this his relation to other men into a moral communion, without
which his personal perfection cannot be reached. The most primitive
natural communion is sexual communion, from which naturally arises the
second form. that between parents and children; both forms are to be
raised from the merely natural. to the moral communion of the family.
As all love presupposes some form of communion, though it be ante-moral
and merely natural, hence the moral forming of this communion is not an
absolutely new creating of a communion, but the spiritual exalting of
one that already exists naturally. Though moral communion with God is
the highest good, still this does not exclude, but includes, a
communing with other rational creatures, for God is himself in
communion with them. Mystical quietism is but a refined self-seeking,
and conflicts with the essence of Christianity; for God did not create
mere isolated beings, but destined them for each other; "it is not
good," not in harmony with the moral destination of the race, "that man
should be alone," for an isolated person lacks a very essential sphere
of moral activity-that upon which he can not only (as in his relation
to God) appropriate and obey, and not only (as in his relation to
nature) dominate, but also, as relating to beings like himself, form
and appropriate at the same time in mutual moral reciprocity. Without
moral communion with other men morality cannot come to its full
development; communion is not a mere inactive condition, but it is a
productive good, a condition of new, higher morality. This of itself is
a condemnation of the hermit-life; of such a life the Scriptures know
nothing; solitude may indeed be salutary as a preliminary preparation
for a calling that requires great collection of soul [Luke i, 80], as
indeed the Son of man himself resorted thereto for a while [Matt. iv];
but the Sabbath-introspection of the soul cannot, as opposed to an
active life among men, be made the exclusively-legitimate life. The
recluse life, even where the severest discipline is exercised against
the sinful nature, is an immoral renouncing of the moral duties of man
toward his fellows, a dissolving of the kingdom of God into mere atoms,
into mere isolated individuals, and hence it was utterly foreign to the
earliest Church.
The communion of man with his fellows is primarily of a merely natural
character; but man is to have in his whole being and nature, and above
all in his spiritual nature, nothing which he has merely naturally
received and not also morally appropriated to, and formed for, himself.
The communion of the sexes, as well as that between parents and
children, is primarily as yet extra-moral,--does not yet distinguish
man from the brute; both forms of communion need to be raised to a
moral character, otherwise they will sink to an immoral one; even
parental love may be sinful.
(a) THE FAMILY.
SECTION CXLII.
Natural sexual love is, as a manifestation of the divine love ruling in
nature, per se a type of moral communion, but it does not itself
suffice to create this. The merely natural, and hence extra moral,
element of the same is confined entirely to the unconscious natural
inclination; the exalting of the mere inclination to real love is never
an ante-moral or extra-moral process, but springs of moral
determination; the actual accomplishing of the sexual communion should
never follow upon mere natural love, but must, as a free act, be simply
a manifestation of the already realized moral communion of the persons
in virtue of moral love. Without this condition it is not extra-moral,
but anti-moral, as an actual destruction of moral communion.
Sexual communion is the first possible communion, and hence has in
nature its first incitation. As man was not an absolutely other and new
creation but the divinely-animated nature-creature, so also is the
first moral communion not one that was absolutely new-created by man,
but a morally-exalted natural communion. Sexual love prevails
throughout animated nature,--is its highest life-function, and,
therefore, also the highest manifestation of the divine love as ruling
in nature The flower develops in its sexual bloom its highest force and
splendor; the brute has, in sexual love, the highest pleasure-feeling,
that of a perfect, mutually life-unifying harmony with its like; it is
the feeling that it is not a mere isolated unit, but a living member of
a higher whole. It is not man's duty to suppress this
life-manifestation, but to exalt it,--to raise the
unconsciously-prevailing love of the animal into a conscious and moral
love. Though in idea the same, the sexes are in reality different,
mutually complementing each other to the full idea of man. The somewhat
clumsy myth as to the original androgynous forms of humanity, as given
in Plato's Symposium, is but a distorted echo of the thought, much more
suggestively expressed in the Biblical account, of the formation of Eve
from a rib of Adam.
Love, according to its inner idea, is not only preservative but also
communicative, awakening new life and promoting it; hence the
propagation of the human race is conditioned on the highest earthly
love. All love is an appropriating and a forming at the same time. In
sexual love the sexes mutually appropriate and form each other as
natural beings, though in different degrees; the spiritually moral
appropriating and forming must, however, precede the natural, as its
moral consecration and conditionment; the reversing of this relation,
the letting the moral and personal love simply follow the sexual
communion, is morally impossible, as thereby the latter is degraded to
a purely bestial, immoral character, and cannot become the
starting-point of a moral communion.
A possession is moral only as property, that is, in virtue of its
having been morally-acquired and appropriated; now the communion of the
sexes is the complete giving up and appropriating of each party as the
property of the other; hence when it is not a manifestation and fruit
of an already-accomplished, morally-personal, spiritual unity,--of the
appropriation of the persons as moral and hence as permanent
inalienable property,--it is then not only not a simply natural action
but an immoral throwing away of one's moral personality, an
irremediable ruining of the moral personality of the other. Lost
innocence is irrecoverable; mere sexual communion without moral love is
a defamation. But moral love is in its very essence permanent; that
which is by love appropriated to the person as property is
inalienable,--can be destroyed only with the personality itself.
Whoredom is not mere bestiality, but, as a moral self-abandonment, it
is below bestiality; for the brute does not throw itself away. Even in
the case of the first man, moral love preceded sexual communion. "And
Adam said: this is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she
shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man" [Gen. ii, 23
sqq.]. This is a child-like, natural expression of moral love, the full
consciousness of the harmony and unity between man and wife; the wife
is the man's other ego, belongs to him, is destined to him as property,
as also he to her; she is of, and for, him. Hence to this expression of
moral love joins itself, as a sequence, the further thought: "therefore
shall a man leave his father and his mother and shall cleave unto his
wife, and they shall be one flesh;" the becoming one in the flesh
follows only from and upon the being one in spirit; they become one
also sexually, because they have mutually recognized each other as
joined in a personally-spiritual unity. The moral consciousness of the
personal belonging of the one to the other, the free recognition of
their mutually-possessing each other as property, is the indispensable
antecedent moral condition of sexual communion. Without this moral
condition, that which is the acme of the nature-life, the innermost
center of nature-mysteries, the synthesis of all that is wonderful in
nature-force, namely, the generative act,--which, as moral, is a sacred
act,--becomes an absolutely immoral one, and sinks man toward the brute
more than any other natural action.
SECTION CXLIII.
Moral sexual love being a love of the persons to each other, and the
moral personality of the one being per se equal to that of the other in
moral worth, and consequently also in moral rights, hence that giving
up of the one person, as a complete moral possession, to the other,
which is required by sexual communion, is only then possible when this
surrender is a mutual one, that is, when the two persons belong to each
other exclusively; and hence moral sexual love exists only in the
marriage of two persons, in view of sexual communion and consequently
of complete personal life-communion. Polygamy is morally
impossible,--is but legally regulated whoredom, makes a real personal
love-surrender, and hence marriage itself, impossible. For the same
reason, marriage is morally indissoluble. Marriage is not a mere right,
is not simply allowed, but it is a divinely-willed and expressly
ordained moral communion, and hence the entering upon it is not a
merely natural but also a religious action, which, standing as it does
under the express, promise of the divine blessing, is very naturally
invested with a religious consecration.
The extra-Christian notion of polygamy absolutely excludes the moral
essence of marriage; in it the woman is indeed the man's property, but
not man the woman's; this involves a difference in the moral worth and
rights of the sexes, which, from a moral stand-point, is impossible;
for it denies the moral personality of the woman; and in fact, in
polygamy, woman is only a slave. Of the polygamy of the Old Testament
it is not here the place to speak. The primitive divine institution of
marriage recognizes only the marriage with one woman, and the New
Testament presupposes this throughout [Matt. xix, 3 sqq.; 1 Cor. vii,
2; xi, 11; Eph, v, 28; 1 Tim. iii, 2].
As marriage rests entirely on personal love to a person, hence it is
not a mere legal relation; and as in it the persons belong entirely to
each other,--are to each other a mutual property, the essence and
strength of which is love,--hence to view marriage as a merely legal
relation not only falls below the moral idea of marriage, but is per se
immoral, for a contract-relation presupposes the non-presence of
mutually-confiding love,--excludes a perfect moral
life-and-body-communion, the reciprocal belonging to each other as a
moral property; on the contrary, such a contract tends to raise between
the two persons, as exclusively bent on their personal advantage, the
separation-wall of distrust, and delivers the one consort to the other
for mere stipulated service and use. As little as a contract-relation
is conceivable between parents and children in their mutual family
duties, just so little is it morally possible between husband and wife.
Sexual communion when based on a mere legal contract is only
respectable concubinage; it stands essentially on an equal footing with
polygamy.--The generating of children is not so much the purpose as
rather the blessing of marriage; its purpose is absolutely the
fulfilling of moral love; marriage is and continues in full validity
even where this blessing is wanting. The legal principle that "the
chief end of marriage is the generating and training of children," is
consistent rather with a legalized concubinage or with polygamy than
with the moral idea of marriage, and would in consistency require that
barrenness be regarded as a perfectly valid ground for divorce.
For the simple reason that consorts belong to each other as moral
property, marriage admits morally of no dissolution. A moral property
is inseparably united with the moral peculiarity, and hence with the
personal essence of the individual,--is, like this essence,
inalienable. It is as impossible morally to dissolve a marriage as it
is for a person to separate from his personal life, his peculiar
character, and hence from his own self; and, as a violent internal
anarchy of the spirit, namely, in insanity, is conceivable only in a
sinfully-disordered state, so also is a dissolution of marriage
conceivable only in a state of sinfully morbid disorder,--it is in fact
an ethical insanity, a moral ruin of the two self-separating consorts.
Christ affirms this moral impossibility of divorce [Matt. xix, 3-9],
and bases his doctrine on this significant reason: "They are no more
twain, but one flesh; what therefore God hath joined together, let not
man put asunder." This is not two reasons but only one; God has joined
together marriage in his primative instituting of it, that is, by his
creative will, which established the essence of marriage to consist in
the fact that the two consorts should be one flesh, one single
absolutely inseparable life as to soul and body, even as every living
body is a single inseparable whole, and any dissevering of it, the
death of the same. The indissolubility of marriage is still more
strongly emphasized by Christ by his citing the words of the Creator at
its institution: "I For this cause shall a man leave father and mother,
and shall cleave to his wife, and they twain shall be one flesh." Man
is not to abandon his father and mother with his love, though he may
outwardly withdraw from them in order to build up a family of his own;
but still more intimate than the bond between parents and children, is
the bond between husband and wife, who mutually fully belong to each
other. Now if the bond of love and unity between parents and children
can never be dissolved without great moral violence, still less can the
bond between husband and wife be morally dissolved. The unity of the
"flesh" is not to be understood merely, nor even chiefly, of the bodily
union, but alludes to the highest and perfect moral union of the whole
life of both body and soul. A merely spiritual unity is designated by
mia kardia kai psuche [Acts iv, 32], but husband and wife are also heis
mian sarka [1 Cor. vi, 16; comp. vii, 4; Eph. v, 28 sqq.]. Adultery
alone works divorce, and all divorce is in its moral essence adultery
[comp. 1 Cor. vii, 10], and, as relating to the children, a ruthless
annihilating of the family.
It is of high significancy that the Scriptures expressly affirm the
divine institution of marriage, and give to moral marriage a promise of
special blessing [Gen. i, 28; ii, 24; ix, 7; Matt. xix, 4; comp. Psa.
cxxviii, 3; cxxvii, 3-5]. Hence marriage cannot in any sense be
implicated in unsanctity or lowness, so as to be inconsistent with a
truly spiritual and holy life; otherwise God, when he introduced woman
to man as called to be holy, would have encouraged him to turn aside
from his high destination, and Adam would have had not merely the right
but in fact also the duty of declining this gift of divine love; the
creation of the woman would really have been the first temptation. In a
normal, uncorrupted state of humanity it is not only the right, but
also the duty, of the morally and corporeally mature individual to live
in this God-instituted state of marriage; it is not marriage itself but
the particular choice of the consort that is left to the particular,
personal preference of love. God's declaration: "It is not good that
the man should be alone; I will make him an help-meet for him,"
distinctly implies that celibacy per se is not the better but the less
good state,--as well for man, for he ought to have a help-meet, as also
for woman, for her express destination is to be a help-meet for the
man. Of the relations of marriage after the fall into sin, it is not
here the place to speak.
The fact that in all not totally savage nations marriage is not
constituted simply by the consent of the two persons, but by some sort
of solemn and, most usually, religious ceremony, is a significant
implication of the moral essence of marriage; and the importance that a
people places on the religiously-moral consecration of marriage, is a
pretty safe criterion of its morality in relation to the sexual life.
SECTION CXLIV.
The two consorts stand to each other, as moral persons, on an equal
footing; they both find their union in a complete devoted love, and
hence, in fact, in a loving, free subordination to the moral law. The
consorts complement each other also in spiritually-moral respects; and
it is only in respect to this harmony-conditioning complementing that
the woman is in many things rather guided than self-determining. This,
however, is not a real domination of the man over the woman as over a
subject, but only a conditional super-ordination of the man as the
actively-guiding unity-point of the common life. As a moral relation
marriage rests on freedom, that is, on free mutual choice; consequently
it presupposes the moral maturity of the two lovers. This freedom of
choice, however, is not irrational caprice, but determines itself in
view of the true life-harmonizing, reciprocally-complementing, personal
peculiarity of the two parties, and receives its moral ratification by
its being freely recognized on the part of the moral community, and
primarily of the family.
But moral equality is not sameness. As the final destination of all
moral beings is the same, hence a difference of the moral worth of the
sexes is not conceivable [Gal. iii, 28; 1 Pet. iii, 7]. The inferior
position of the female sex in all non-Christian nations is a sign of
moral unculture, which even the Greeks did not entirely put off. The
account of the creation of woman indicates her true dignity; taken from
man's heart, she belongs to man's heart, and is not a slave at his
feet; she is a part of him,--is not merely flesh of his flesh but also
soul of his soul. The antithesis of sex. which is not of a merely
bodily character, conditions indeed also very different moral duties;
but these duties are absolutely equal in moral worth. The precedency of
the woman in the interior of the family is in no respect less than that
of the man in the civic sphere; and though, in virtue of this
difference, the woman is, in many respects,--especially in those of the
external, public life, that is, of the outward-directed
activity,--properly subject to the man as the natural leader in this
sphere [Eph. v, 22, 23], yet, as an offset to this, the man is in his
turn properly dependent on the woman in the sphere of female activity;
it is not to the credit of the man to dominate in the kitchen and
nursery. Each rules, by the constitution of nature, in his own sphere;
and it is perfectly in order for the woman, in her sphere, to exercise
a determining influence on the man (S: 69). The historical
tyrant-relation of the man over the woman is not the original and true
one, and is inconsistent with true confiding love and with the dignity
of womanhood, and is expressly explained in the Scriptures as a
punishment for sin [Gen. iii, 16]. On the other hand, however, a
certain guiding super-ordination of the man is the original and normal
relation, and is in no respect a fruit of the fall; Adam was as guilty
as Eve: sin was effectual only in changing the original normal
subordination of the woman into a relation of servitude. Though the
woman is, in more than one respect, the "weaker vessel" [1 Pet. iii,
7], nevertheless she is a "co-heir of grace;" and she has, though
indeed another and peculiar, yet not a less noble moral life-task than
the man; as the help-meet of man it is hers faithfully to preserve and
foster that which the stronger and more independent-willed man actively
creates. The strong vital initiative, the fixing of the goal, and the
task of producing, are the work of the man; in this work the woman is
to be for him, to aid him, to have him for the vital central-point of
the activity peculiar to her [1 Cor. xi, 8, 9]. Though the woman had
first sinned, and the man was thus led astray by her, yet the offended
and sentencing God turns himself first to Adam, and requires account of
him, and then afterward to Eve; Adam was in duty required to strengthen
and dissuade the yielding and sinning woman, and not to let himself be
led by her.
The contracting of marriage is neither a mere business-transaction nor
a fruit of a simple falling in love; where moral love does not form the
marriage, there it is desecrated. Hence marriages cannot be planned and
brought about simply by parents, no more than can the parents practice
virtue for their children; the moral must be accomplished by each for
himself. The free personal choice that is absolutely necessary to
marriage proper is not to be made arbitrarily or by hap-hazard; it aims
essentially at the realization of the complete life-unity of the two
persons, to the end of moral communion. This unity, and hence this
perfect harmony, presupposes a difference and at the same time a
similarity of the spiritually and bodily self-complementing persons.
The difference consists in the normal spiritual and corporeal
antithesis of the sexes in general, and, in particular, in the
respective peculiarity of the persons, which finds, largely, in the
opposite peculiarity its complement, and hence its moral satisfaction;
a fiery, impassioned temperament is advantageously complemented by one
that is gentle and calm. The similarity consists in the essential
agreement of the persons, not merely in their moral and spiritual, but
also in their physical peculiarities,--a similarity which can well
exist in the midst of large difference. Without the similarity there
would be no unanimity; without the difference there would be no mutual
complementing, and hence no mutual attraction. The selecting for
marriage is a finding of the complementing personality, and is free and
unfree at the same time. There lies, indeed, in this finding, something
of the mysterious, something which transcends the dialectical
consciousness; and an anticipatory feeling antecedes, even in a normal
state of things, the definite recognizing of the person; the matter
should not rest, however, at the stage of mere feeling, but the person
should at once exalt it to a rational consciousness,--should
transfigure the ante-moral love-feeling into rational love.
The morally-rational character of the contracting of marriage is
recognized by usages prevalent among all not utterly uncultured
nations, and is guaranteed by the fact that it is not left to the mere
discretion of the individuals, but is subject to the ratifying
recognition of the moral community, and hence primarily of the parents
concerned [comp. 1 Cor. vii, 37]. Though parents are not entitled so
far to represent their children as to choose consorts for them, yet
they are perfectly entitled to ratify the choice of their children by
their approval.
SECTION CXLV.
Marriage as productive is the basis of the more extended family, which,
like marriage, is not a merely natural but essentially a moral
relation. The family members stand to each other either in the relation
of equality, as husband and wife or as brothers and sisters, or in that
of super-ordination and subordination, as parents and children. The
relation between parents and children is the first inequality among
men, and the presupposition and type of all other relations of
super-ordination and subordination. Parents and children stand to each
other in the relation of moral personalities, and hence also of mutual
moral duties; parents have, in relation to their children,
preponderatingly the duty of forming, and hence of educating, during
the progress of which, however, the constantly and necessarily
therewith-connected duty of sparing, rises gradually to greater
prominence as the development advances, until finally it predominates,
and the child has attained to its moral majority. As, however, in a
process of normal development, the parents also constantly advance
spiritually and morally, hence they always retain their super-ordinate
relation to the children even as matured; their formative influence on
the children can never cease, and never gives place to a relation of
moral equality with them. The children, on their part, continue always,
though not in a constantly like manner, subject to the parents in
reverential obedience, which, however, as itself resting upon love to
God, is ever also conditioned thereby.
The difference between consorts and blood-relatives rests on the
difference between moral and natural communion. In both cases the
communion is not only spiritually-moral but also corporeally-natural.
With consorts, however, the bodily-natural communion rests on an
antecedent moral communion; and with blood-relatives the moral
communion rests on the precedent corporeally-natural communion; the
former become corporeally one because they love each other, the latter
love each other because in blood they are already one; the former
proceed from an original state of separation, toward union; the latter
tend from their original union to a state of separation;
blood-relationship proper precludes sexual communion. The fact that
relatives are bound to each other by especially close bonds of love
[Gen. xiii, 8, 9; xiv, 14 sqq.; xviii, 23 sqq.; xxix, 13 sqq.; Exod.
xviii, 5 sqq.; Ruth i; ii, 20; Luke i, 38, 40, 58; comp. Job xix, 13;
Psa. xxxi, 12; lxix, 8], does not conflict with the more general love
of neighbor.
In the family begins, now, moral society with all its normal
differences. Husband and wife do not as yet constitute a society, for
they are one flesh; nor do parents and children form one, for although
they are one spirit, yet they stand to each other in the relation of
super-ordination and subordination. Persons who are entirely alike, and
who stand to each other in absolutely like relations, constitute indeed
a multitude, but not a society; where there is no vital all-guiding
nucleus, no throbbing heart for the body, no soul for the acting
members, there is no living whole, no society. Inequality, unlikeness,
lies in the essence of every moral society,--not an inequality of the
moral rights of personalities, but an inequality, a difference, of
spiritually-moral position in and relation to society. Parents are the
first princes, and true princes are the fathers of their people; patres
was the title of distinction of the Roman senators; "elders" is used in
a like sense for the leaders of moral society in almost all the free
constitutions of antiquity and also of the church. Parents are the
guides of their children by the grace of God, for children are a gift
of divine grace [Gen. xxi, 1; xxv, 21; xxix, 31; xxx, 6, 17 sqq.;
xxxiii, 5; Exod. xxiii, 26; Deut. vii, 14; Ruth iv, 13; 1 Sam. ii, 21;
Psa. cxxvii, 3; cxxviii, 3; comp. 1 Tim. ii, 15]; therein lies the
right as well as the duty of the parents. Guiding the children in God's
name, standing in God's stead for them [Eph. vi, 1; comp. Lev. xix,
32], they have not only a right to reverential obedience, but also the
duty of reverence-awakening training. Parental love is per se strictly
natural, hence it is found even in the natural man [Gen. xxi, 16; xxxi,
28, 43, 50, 55; 1 Kings iii, 16 sqq.; Isa. xlix, 15; Matt. ii, 18; Luke
xv, 21 sqq.; John iv, 47 sqq.], and consequently very much more so in
the pious [Gen. ix, 26, 27; xxi, 11, 12; xxii, 2; xxiv; xxviii, 1-4;
xxxvii, 3, 34, 35; xlii, 36 sqq.; xliii, 14; xliv, 22, 30; xlv, 28;
xlvi, 30; xlviii, 10 sqq.; Exod. ii, 2 sqq.; 2 Sam. xii, 16 sqq.; xiii,
30 sqq.; xiv; xviii, 33; xix, 1 sqq.; Prov. x, 1; xv, 20; Jer. xxxi,
15; Matt. ii, 14; Luke ii, 35, 44; John xix, 25].
It is the part of parents to cultivate their children into
morally-matured personalities; this is not merely a right of the
parents, but also of the children, and hence, for the former, a duty;
they are to impart to their children the spiritually-moral attainments
of their own spiritual development, and consequently also those of
humanity in general, so that the children shall not have to go through
again, in the very same manner, the same absolutely new-beginning
development as the parents, for this is simply the manner and
characteristic of nature-objects, but that they may place themselves in
the current of history, and learn and appropriate to themselves its
spiritual results, and then, in their turn, carry them further forward.
All spiritual forming of the, as yet, spiritually immature is an
historical working,--an initiating of the, as yet, immature spirit into
the current and working of history. Now, as the child is in fact to
ripen on into a morally-mature personality, and yet from the start
already is, both in essence and in faculties, a moral personality,
hence the forming of the same by the parents is never a strictly
exclusive influencing, and hence, on the part of the child, never a
merely inactive receiving, but always also a spiritually-moral
co-operating of the child, a constantly increasing initiative
self-forming of the same, so that consequently from the very start
there must always be united with the formative activity upon the child,
also a sparing bearing toward it; and such a forming is in fact
education.--Education,--which, as aiming at the moral goal, namely,
harmony with God and with the totality of moral being, must always be
at the same time a natural and a spiritual, a special and a general
forming, directed toward bringing the child to God and to God-sonship
[Gen. xviii, 19; Deut. vi, 7; xi, 19; xxxi, 12, 13; xxxii, 46; Psa.
lxxviii, 3 sqq.; xxxiv, 12; Isa. xxxviii, 19; Eph. vi, 4; comp. Luke
ii, 27],--is a characteristic manifestation of rationality; the brute
needs no education, as it is never destined to become free and moral.
All created beings are, in their essence, naturally good; but it is
only by education that they become morally good, and truly rational and
free. Wherever the morally uncultured and unmatured undertake to
establish liberty, there it soon results in unbridled license, and, as
an attendant thereof, in the coarse tyranny of the stronger. In the
want and requirement of education are implied a recognition and
admission that the entire true essence of the child is not conferred
upon it immediately by nature, but must he first acquired by free
spiritual acts, and that too not by merely individual acts, but by the
spiritual appropriation of the already extant spiritual attainments of
humanity,--by spiritual obedience toward the spiritually and morally
mature. The child cannot educate itself, nor can it on the other hand
simply be educated without its own moral co-operation; but it must
willingly let itself be educated.
Reverence for parents, and, what is only another phase of the same
thing, for the aged in general, is regarded by all nations, with the
exception of the totally savage, as a sacred duty [comp. Gen. ix, 23];
and it is a sure sign of a deep moral corruption of the spirit of a
people where there is a declension in the reverence of children for
parents, and, in general, of youth before old age; and more especially
so when this declension is not undeserved. In a morally-normal
development-course of humanity it is absolutely inconceivable that old
age should so deeply decline as to fall behind the wisdom and moral
maturity of the youth; the superior wisdom and knowledge of divine and
human things would, in virtue of the higher inner and outward
experience, continue to be the imperishable possession of old age; and
it belongs among the most distressing evidences of the sinful disorder
of the human race, that in fact old age does frequently sink back to
childishness, and needs to be taken under the guardianship of the
children. If any one can regard this as the natural order of life, let
him also regard as foolish and groundless the pain which every, not
totally perverse, child's heart experiences at the sight of such a
sinking of the gray head, before which it would fain only bow in
reverence.
Children have, toward their parents, predominantly the duty of
appropriating, which, however, gradually passes over more and more into
a self-forming, though without ever entirely breaking off from the
formative influence of the parents; and the sparing bearing of the
children toward the parents can never, save under utterly corrupted
conditions, be transcended by their formative bearing toward them. The
formative influence of the children upon the parents, that exists
indeed from the very beginning, can, even after they have become
morally mature, assume only a secondary rank. This
predominatingly-receptive relation of the children to the parents is
that of filial reverence [Gen. xlv, 9 sqq.; Exod. xx, 12; Lev. xix, 3;
Prov. xxx, 17; Matt. xv, 4; Eph. vi, 2], the outward expression of
which is obedience [Prov. xxiii, 25; Eph. vi, 1; Col. iii, 20]. Christ
himself is the pattern also in this [Luke ii, 51; John xix,
26].--Children, when entering into wedlock and establishing a new
family, enter thereby indeed into a greater independence of the parents
[Gen. ii, 24], but the bond between parents and children, the duty of
the former to care for the weal and the honor of the latter [Gen. xxxi,
48 sqq.; Deut. xxii, 13 sqq.], and that of the children to show
reverence for the parents, is not thereby dissolved.
The right of parents to obedience, and the duty of children to show it,
are, however, essentially conditioned on the agreement or disagreement
of the parental command with divine will, and can never become per se
and unconditionally binding, For this right is not a merely natural but
a moral one; the merely natural dependence of children on their parents
extends, as with brutes, only so far as the state of actual
helplessness and need extends; the moral dependence, however, is a
permanent one that is never to be dissolved. The moral right of the
parents to obedience rests on the fact that they do not represent their
own individual will, but the divine will. And for this very reason the
guilt of parents is so deep when they misuse their moral mission to
educate in God's name, and lead the child away from God, placing their
own sinful will in the stead of the divine will.
SECTION CXLVI.
Brothers and sisters sustain toward each other, in the same manner as
consorts, though only in morally-spiritual respects. complementing
relations; and their mutual love forms an essential element in the
morality of the family-life; but this complementing is, because of the
predominant like-character of the parties, never perfect and
all-sufficient, and hence brothers and sisters naturally seek for
complementing elements also outside of the family-circle. This form of
love which passes beyond the merely natural communion and freely
selects for itself the complementing personality, is friendship.
Also the mutual love of brothers and sisters is primarily of a purely
natural character and requires to be exalted to a moral one [Gen.
xxxiii; xxxiv; xlii, 24 sq.; xliii, 16 sqq.; xliv, 18 sqq.; xlv, 1
sqq.; 1, 17; Exod. ii, 4 sqq.; Psa. cxxxiii, 1; Luke xv, 32]. Brothers
and sisters can never personally complement each other to such an
extent as that the need of friendship outside of the family-circle
should not arise; they are originally too homogeneous, too similar, to
render attainable that full harmony that both requires, and perfectly
consists with, large difference. Brother and sister complement each
other much more than brother and brother or sister and sister; and they
in fact usually unite themselves more intimately with each other than
do brothers or sisters among themselves; nevertheless there remains
also here, and especially as spiritual maturity draws near, an
unbridged chasm, and there is felt the need of a harmony more
vital--one that is conditioned on a more strongly developed antithesis.
It is not a loveless turning away from the family, but a strictly
legitimate impulse, when the boy and girl seek after outside
friendship. This does not interfere with the family-love, but heightens
it. Friendship is an enlarged brother-and-sister love, or rather it is
its complementing of itself outside of the family proper; it is
brotherly love as resting upon purely spiritual affinity. Hence
friendship is usually stronger in the period of transition from the
original narrow family-circle into new and more independent forms of
life; and on the establishing of a new independent family-circle it is
usual for the friendship of the consorts with others to grow less
strong, and for new friendships to be less easily formed; wedlock-love
occasions an enfeebling of friendship; he who in youth has Wad true
friendships usually turns out to be an affectionate consort; and
friendship with persons of the other sex very readily develops itself
into real sexual love, and is consequently not without its essential
dangers.
SECTION CXLVII.
The necessity of the complementing of family love by friendship,
indicates of itself the reason of the moral impossibility of marriage
between near blood relatives. The instinct that prompts brothers and
sisters to seek friendship outside of the narrower family-circle,
prompts them also to seek for themselves consorts outside of the same.
The requisite antecedent condition of marriage, a difference of the
bodily and of the spiritual peculiarities of the persons, exists most
feebly in near blood relatives; and marriage is, in its very essence, a
free moral communion which does not spring from a natural communion,
but, on the contrary, itself gives rise to this. As marriage
presupposes a moral equality, and is a relation of homogeneous
reciprocal love, hence it would be, between parents and children, a
revolting crime, inasmuch as here the relation of reverence is
insuperable; also, as between brothers and sisters, it is, for all save
the second generation of the race, absolutely inadmissible, partly for
the reasons already given, and ill part because of that deep awe of the
parental blood which holds good also as towards brothers and sisters.
The antecedent moral presupposition of marriage is riot filial or
brotherly love, but friendship.
The obstacle to marriage as found in blood-relationship is one of the
most difficult of ethical questions, not so much, however, because of
any kind of doubt as to its legitimacy, as rather in reference to the
moral grounds for this recognition, which in fact is almost universal
and which prevails in almost all, even heathen, nations. With the
adducing of mere outward grounds of fitness, such as the avoidance of
near-lying temptation, very little is gained; also it is difficult to
establish this prohibition, as a nature-law, from the practice of
animated nature in general, for brutes do not observe it. The grounds
lie deeper and are essentially of a spiritually-moral character. In the
first place, however, a distinction is to be made between ascending and
collateral blood relationship. Marriages between parents and children
and within other ascending and descending degrees of relationship are
an outrage even for our natural feelings in general [Lev. xviii; xx, 11
sqq.; 1 Cor. v, 1 sqq.; comp. Gen. xix, 30 sqq.]. The insuperable
relation of reverence between children and parents [comp. Gen. ix, 23]
renders morally impossible any sexual mingling, inasmuch as sexual
communion rests upon the closest confiding equality of the persons;
whatever conflicts with filial and paternal love is absolutely immoral,
and this would unquestionably be attendant upon sexual communion. The
same is of course true of grand-parents and grand-children. The case
stood originally somewhat different as far as regards marriage between
brothers and sisters; in this respect there occur in the general
consciousness some, though indeed very rare, exceptions. The Peruvians
punished such marriages with death; and yet for political reasons they
prescribed them for their ruling Inca. In the case of the children of
Adam, God made an exception in the interest of the indispensably
essential unity of the human race (S: 88). And the unconditional
prohibition of such marriages could only come into force when the
possibility of other alliances was fully realized. In the legislation
of Moses, the sexual mingling of brothers and sisters was visited with
anathemas and death [Lev. xviii, 9, 11; xx, 17; Deut. xxvii, 22]; and
as early as in the time of Abraham such marriages were utterly foreign
even to the heathen consciousness, as is evidenced by the fact that
Abraham, in order to protect himself, caused Sarah to pass as his
sister [Gen. xii, 13; xx, 2]. (That Sarah was really Abraham's
half-sister in the stricter sense is not proved by Gen. xx, 12, as the
expression "daughter of my father" may also designate Terah's
grand-daughter, and it is not improbable that she was the daughter of
Haran, Abraham's brother, and that her earlier name Iscah [Gen. xi, 29]
was exchanged for the title of honor, Sarai [my mistress, my wife]; in
verse 31 she is called Terah's daughter-in-law, which would hardly be
said had she been his daughter; and whatever the facts may be, the
contracting of this marriage falls before Abraham's call.)
The most immediate ground for the inadmissibility of marriage between
brothers and sisters lies in the fact, that though here the requisite
likeness of disposition in the parties does exist, yet on the other
hand there is lacking that degree of difference which is essential to a
vital complementing harmony; brothers and sisters are entirely too
homogeneous in their bodily and spiritual natures to give rise to a
vital, fruitful, reciprocal influencing. Narcissus fell in love with
his own image, and passed, for this very reason, for a simpleton; and
brother and sister are to each other, each, the image of the other. No
sensible man will select for himself as a friend one who is only his
strictly-resembling second-self, but, on the contrary, such a one as,
by his difference, will stimulatingly-complement himself; the same
holds good of husband and wife; of these, because of their constant
uniformity of life in marriage, it holds good in fact in a still higher
degree. This explains also the well-known fact that an actual falling
in love between brother and sister is among the rarest of occurrences,
even under circumstances where moral corruption has taken deep root;
(illustrated in the case of Amnon, 2 Sam. xiii, 1). To attempt to
explain this natural phenomenon simply from the express law is
inadmissible, and for this reason among others, because this law, as
existing among all cultured heathen nations, can in fact be explained
only from a natural conviction, and because this sentiment prevails
even where in general no regard whatever is had to religious and moral
laws. This reason, however, is not fully sufficient, because while
indeed it has reference to, and accounts for, unhappy marriages, yet it
does not explain why some marriages should be regarded as criminal;
and, besides, in many cases, where only too great differences exist
between brothers and sisters, it would not apply at all. A second
reason for this inadmissibility reaches deeper, namely, that marriage
as distinguished from a merely natural communion, must rest essentially
upon a purely moral free choice and act; it exists in its truth only
where it does not proceed from natural communion as developing itself
into complete love, but where it first creates this natural communion;
its purpose is to create love and spread it abroad, and not merely to
affirm a love which is already strong from nature. Blood-relationship
and marriage are two different moral ordinances and bonds, which are
not to be intermingled with each other; marriage looks to the uniting
of a previously existing antithesis by love, and not to the uniting or
ratifying, a second time, of an already existing natural unity. It is
because of this peculiarity that marriage forms the basis of all moral
community-life, and must therefore express in itself the essential
character of this life, namely, purely spiritual love. If the marriage
of brothers and sisters were admissible, then the family would tend to
hedge itself in upon its purely natural basis,--would grow up
animal-like to a merely natural, but not to a purely spiritual,
communion. There is need of the general dissemination of love, as St.
Augustine remarks, and this would be obstructed by the possibility of
marriage between brothers and sisters; and family self-seeking in
narrow-hearted seclusion would become almost inevitable; marriage looks
not merely to the uniting together of two persons, but also of two
families. The moral development of a people as a whole imperatively
requires this breaking down of the walls of family seclusiveness,
namely, the non permission of the marriage of brothers and sisters;
hence this prohibition is of high world-historical significancy.--The
chief ground, however, and one which expresses itself chiefly in our
natural feelings, is reverence for the parental blood which has passed
from the parents over upon the children, and which calls for a
respectful avoidance of fleshly-sensuous enjoyment. Man sees in his
brother or sister not merely the image, but also the blood of his
parents [comp. Lev. xviii, 9; vii, 8, 11 sqq., where this thought is
implied]; and the feeling of reverential awe and shame that springs
from this consciousness precludes any feeling of sexual love. And in
general the feeling of reverence is uncongenial to sexual love; and
when, as not unfrequently occurs, a maiden has stood in a reverential
relation to the man who offers himself to her as husband, there the
transition from this feeling of reverence to that of conjugal love
costs her a severe and poignant struggle.--Where sin has actually taken
deep root, there arise other grounds for the inadmissibility of the
marriage of blood-relatives. But we must confine ourselves here to the
expression of the fundamental idea.
SECTION CXLVIII.
The family is a unitary vital whole also in relation to its moral
property; it is not a mere sum of simply isolated persons of like name,
but a body and a soul--a moral person with a common moral honor and a
possession of its own, in which all the single members participate.
The family has as a living unity, also one spirit, a common moral
life-purpose and a common moral peculiarity; the common life-purpose
consists in the mutual promotion of the moral life in one God-inspired
spirit; the common peculiarity is, spiritually, the moral honor of the
family, and, outwardly, its temporal possessions. The moral
acquirements of one family member, especially of the head, pass over to
the whole family, and the deserts of the parents bear, in virtue of the
divine order of the world, fruits of blessing for the children, and are
rewarded upon them [Gen. xxvi. 4, 5, 24; xlix, 10, 26; Exod. xx, 6;
Deut. v, 10; vii, 9; 2 Sam. ix, 7; xxi, 7; 1 Kings xi, 34; Psa. xxv,
13; xxxvii, 25 sqq.; cxii, 2, 3; Prov. xiv, 26; xvii, 6; xx, 7; Jer.
xxxii, 18; comp. 1 Cor. vii, 14; Rom. xi, 16]; and the sins of the
fathers are visited upon the children, and are for them a shame and a
misfortune [Gen. ix, 25; xx, 7, 17 sqq.; xlix, 7; Exod. xx, 5; xxxiv,
7; Lev. xxvi. 39; Num. xiv, 18; Deut. v, 9; vii, 9; 1 Kings xi, 39; 2
Kings v, 27; Job v, 4; xxi, 19; xxvii, 14; Psa. xxxvii, 28; cix, 9, 10;
Prov. xi, 21; xvi, 5; Isa. xiv, 21; Jer. xviii, 21; xxxii, 18; Lam. v,
7; Hos. iv, 6; comp. Matt. xxvii, 25], and the sins of the children
upon the fathers, as their disgrace [Lev. xxi, 9; Prov. x, 1; xvii, 25;
xxviii, 7; comp. Deut. xxii 13 sqq.],--whereof we shall speak elsewhere
more fully. The consciousness, deeply rooted in all cultivated nations,
of a transmission of deserts; of a moral nobility of family-lines, has
a profoundly moral basis; but this moral solidarity of the family is
conceived even by the Old Testament more clearly and more distinctly
than was ever done in any heathen nation. This is morally a very
weighty thought. Man is made to feel that he does not live and act as a
merely isolated individual, but, on the contrary, every-where and
always as a member of a moral whole,--that the fruits of his actions,
be they good or evil, pass over to those who belong to him and with
whom he is morally connected, and hence that in sinning he commits an
injustice not merely against himself, but also against all whom he
calls his own. So the family is a divine ordinance, so is the
solidarity of moral deserts and guilts such also; this is not injustice
but sacred justice, for the simple reason that man is never a merely
isolated individual. That which is true of the spiritually-moral
property of the family is true also of the material property, and upon
this rests the principle of inheritance.
(b) MORAL SOCIETY.
SECTION CXLIX.
Moral society is the family as enlarged by its own natural growth and
by friendship, but which, in this enlarging, assumes also. an
essentially different character. Social communion differs from
family-communion by the greater retreating into the back-ground of the
natural unity and at the same time of free personal choice; society
itself assumes an objective, and, in some sense, nature-character; and
the place of natural and free moral love is supplied by custom, which
becomes more or less an objectively-valid power over the individuals.
It differs, furthermore, from the family in this, that it involves a
communion of a far more general character, one that absorbs into itself
the individual person far less, and requires and brings about a more
interrupted and only occasionally-exercised moral intercourse of its
members. The members of society sustain to each other the relation of
friendliness, which is larger in extent, but feebler in inner quality
and power, than friendship. That form of love which manifests itself in
friendliness, and which consequently constitutes the moral essence of
society, is the love of neighbor, which, as distinguished from more
intimate love, does not elect its own object, and is not directed
toward particular persons but toward man in general. Social communion
realizes itself through mutual, spiritual and natural, communicating,
of which the latter form is the expression and the medium of the
former. Spiritual communication may, however, take place only within
the limits conditioned by the family, and hence only with some degree
of moral reserve,--should never become family-confidentiality.
The family throws itself open indeed, in a normal state of things, to
and for, society, but it does not merge itself therein,--rather is it
the uniform and indispensable moral basis and presupposition thereof;
it is a morbid state of society that does not rest on the family, but
rather throws it into the back-ground, and more or less assumes its
place. Only the moral integrity and the deep-reaching moral nature of
the family give to society moral vitality; without these elements
society declines to selfish, enjoyment-seeking characterlessness.
Society cannot, from its very nature, require as large a personal
giving up of individual peculiarities as does the family; it rests
essentially on a greater independence of its individual members to each
other,--gives greater scope to the equal right of the individuals to
independent peculiarities, than is the case with unreservedly-confiding
love or reverence; it is made up therefore strictly only of the truly
independent, and hence of the spiritually and morally mature; minors
should belong predominantly only to the family, and should not as yet
enter society; premature ripeness for society damagingly affects not
only the taste for family-life but also the moral character of the
person; and the most common reason for the characterlessness of the
fashionable world, is the too early supplanting of the family-life by
society-life. In society the individuals stand less in a strictly
personal relation to each other,--stand not in the relation of a
special, personal love, personally complementing each other, but rather
as the single members of a more extensive generality. Here each one
sees and loves, in the other, not so much the special personality as
rather simply a single representative of society as a whole. In order
to the exercise of social virtue, not so much depends on the personal
choice of the individual--on the fact that I have to do with precisely
this or that, to me, congenial personality--as on the fact that the
person be simply a member of human, of moral, society in general. Hence
the members of society make also less demands upon each other for
mutual devotion and confidentiality than the members of a family; in
the place of such perfect, mutual self-devotion as the property of
others, come tender deference, politeness, friendliness and
complacency. Politeness, which has nothing in common with
hollow-hearted pretense, is not shown to the person as such but simply
as a member of society, and should not be confounded with a
manifestation of friendship, as this regards only the person. Forms of
politeness are an expression of love, of friendliness, of humble
deference, to another; they are manifestations of honor to whom honor
is due, and it is due to every upright man [Rom xii, 10; xiii, 7; 1
Pet. ii, 17; v, 5; and, for examples, see Gen. xviii, 2 sqq.; xxiii, 7,
12; xxxii, 4, 18; xxxiii, 3, 6, 7, 13, 14; xliii, 26, 28; xliv, 18
sqq.; Rom. xv, 14, 15; etc.].
The boundary lines between the family and society are very delicate,
but also very legitimate; and he who, from a misconception of this
difference, oversteps these limits and demeans himself in society as in
the family, that is, does not show that proper reserve which seeks not
to press itself upon others,--in a word, he who shows himself
over-confidential, is regarded, and rightly so, as indelicate,
characterless, or impudent; and when the person so acting is a female,
she is looked upon as unwomanly or shameless. French gallantry, for
which, happily, we have no German word, is a treating of the female
members of society as if they were family-members; it treats every
maiden as if she were an affianced sweetheart; it manifests the
appearance of love where neither its reality nor the design of
realizing it exists; this is an immoral disintegration and invasion of
the family by society, a breaking down of the limits between them. With
the growth of gallantry the dissolution of the family usually increases
also; and the gallant society-man usually is or turns out to be a very
ungenial husband. That devotion, that full, mutual, spiritual
self-communicating, and that confidentiality, which, within the family
as well as within the bounds of friendship, are not only a right but
also a duty become sinful when shown to society at large. Hence the
personal love that manifests itself in the family is less in compass,
but greater intensity in, than that love of neighbor which extends to
all members of society without exception, as well as also without
choice, and which manifests itself in the equally generally due spirit
of friendliness [Matt. v, 47; Gal. v, 22; 1 Cor. xiii, 4; Eph. iv, 2,
32; Col. iii, 12; 2 Tim. ii, 24; Prov. xii, 25; Ruth ii, 8 sqq.]. He
who loves and treat the members of his family merely with the
friendliness of neighbor-love sins quite as much as he who
promiscuously treats any or every one he meets with as a personal
friend or as a consort; and this holds good not simply and merely of
society as sin-disordered, though of course the difference is here much
greater than in a state of innocence. Christian neighbor-love is indeed
designated as brother-love, and the members of the moral community are
to regard each other as brethren, even as also Christ calls his
disciples his brethren [John xx, 17; Heb. ii, 11] or his friends [John
xv, 13, 14], but this must not be so taken as to do away with the
difference between family-love and neighbor-love; but, on the contrary,
it rather simply implies that the latter is a form of love that is to
be shaped after the pattern of brotherly love proper. Society is to be
progressively more closely allied to the family,--is to be more and
more affectionately and intimately united together on the basis and
after the pattern of the family; and the closer bonds of the family are
not thereby relaxed but in fact confirmed. The Son of man who embraced
entire humanity in his love, loved yet his disciples with a closer love
than he felt for others; and even among the disciples there was one
"whom the Lord loved" by pre-eminence--who lay upon Jesus' bosom; and
also Lazarus was a special friend of the Lord [John xi, 3, 33 sqq.],
although Christ's love to these persons was still always something
essentially other than human friendship--the Friend never predominating
over the divine Master.--Of the distinctions that naturally form
themselves in every society, and hence of the classes of callings, we
cannot as yet here treat, as their sharper separation springs of and
presupposes a sinful perversion of humanity.
As, on the part of the moral person, love in society is more of a
general and, so to speak, impersonal character, so also is this love
met from without by the objective reality of the moral, not so much as
personal love in a personal form, as rather under a general and
impersonal form--as a merely spiritual power, as custom. Custom is
indeed upheld by the individual members of society, but it does not
proceed from them as particular single persons, but rather from the
collective public spirit of the whole. Custom is a fruit of the moral
life, not of the individual, but of the collective public; it is the
virtue of society as peculiarly-constituted; and, as such, it has a
right to be respected by the individual; and the duty of the individual
to conform to custom cannot be limited by mere caprice, but only by the
higher moral law itself and by the legitimate peculiar duty of the
individual subject. It is not requisite, in order to entitle social
custom to the right of being respected, that in each particular case a
definite moral or other rational ground be readily adducible for its
continuance; this is in many cases even impossible; and though, of
course, the custom, if legitimate, must ever have its sufficient
reason, yet this reason is not always a universally-moral one. A
respectful deference for that which has become historical in society is
a high moral duty, provided simply that society itself is not already
morally perverted. The ebullient juvenile vigor of the intensely
self-conscious youth gladly recalcitrates against the historical
reality of society,--is loth to recognize for itself any other limits
than such as are imposed by the general and, as yet, not
historically-determined moral law. The moral law, however, is not of a
merely universal character, but shapes itself in society into a
particular historical form; moral society has the same right to the
forming and retaining of a peculiar character as has the individual
person; and as the individual is entitled to be respected and spared in
his moral peculiarity, so is entitled also, and with still greater
right, the moral collective whole [Gen. xxix, 26]. It is a sign of
moral crudity when individuals disregard social custom in cases where
it is not positively evil, and oppose themselves to it for the simple
reason that they do not regard it as absolutely necessary,--as, for
example, in the style of clothing and in the forms of social
intercourse. It is true, each individual is entitled to his own moral
judgment as to a custom, and an immoral or irrational custom may by no
means be spared or conformed to; on the contrary, there arises here the
duty of reformatorily influencing society itself. But of such a
perverted state of things we are not as yet here treating. The proper
moral respecting of custom is good-mannered or becoming behavior
koomios, 1 Tim. ii, 9; iii, 2]. The female mind embraces the moral more
as an expression of custom; the male more as that of the law.
As all communion of love is a mutual imparting, so is it also with
social love; the basis and at the same time the moral limit of this
imparting or communicating, is the family. The family throws itself
open occasionally for society,--imparts itself to society, welcomes its
members hospitably into itself. Hospitableness or hospitality [Gen.
xviii; xix; xxiv, 31 sqq.; Exod. ii, 20; Lev. xix, 33, 34; Judges xix,
20, 21; Job xxxi, 32; Matt. xxv, 35; x, 41, 42; Luke xi, 6; Acts
xxviii, 7 sqq.; 1 Pet. iv, 9; Rom. xii, 13; 1 Tim. iii, 2; v, 10; Titus
i, 8; Heb. xiii, 2] is properly a virtue practiced not by the
individual, but predominantly by the family. It is the occasional
letting in of society into the family, the outward manifesting of the
love that prevails in the family toward those who stand to us simply in
the relation of members in society. It is only the family that can
exercise true hospitableness--that can constitute a hospitable house;
this manifests itself, even in our present so radically perverted state
of society, in the fact that it is always the housewife who takes the
lead of the guest-circle, and gives it the family-consecration.
Hospitality is one of the first and most natural manifestations of
neighbor-love, hence it is highly esteemed even among many uncultured
nations; it exists always in its highest form where also the family is
preserved in high moral integrity, as, for example, among the ancient
Germanic races. It is a very special and important characteristic of
hospitality, that it is not exercised merely toward friends proper, who
in fact already belong to the outer circle of the family, but also, and
historically even primarily, to strangers who are as yet not known
personally at all, that is, to man simply in his quality of neighbor.
SECTION CL.
The recognition of the moral character of a person on the part of moral
society, is his social honor; each and every one has, normally, a moral
right to such recognition by every other morally honorable person, and
should strive to obtain and retain it. The actual manifestation of
personal honor, as a moral possession, is personal dignity. No honor is
morally valid save in so far as it is, at the same time, honor before
God. The moral society into which the individual is incorporated by
virtue, on the one hand, of custom, by which he as well as the
collective society is influenced, and in which lie consequently
recognizes the morality of society, and, on the other hand, by virtue
of the honor which he enjoys in the eyes of society, and in which
consequently his morality is recognized by the society, is for him his
moral home.
Only he has honor who has acquired a moral character; the characterless
is honorless. Honor is the reflection of the personal character in the
consciousness of society,--is its recognition by the same. Honor is the
reverse phase of love; only the moral man can rightly love, and in
loving he thirsts also to be loved, and hence to be recognized in his
moral personality by others; the immoral man as such is not loved,
because he is not in the possession of honor. Though honor is based on
moral character yet it is not identical therewith,--it is character as
having become objective in the moral consciousness of society. God's
honor is not his holiness and his divine essence themselves, but the
recognition of the same on the part of rational creatures; and as God
vindicates and seeks his own honor [Exod. xiv, 4; 1 Sam. ii, 30; Psa.
xlvi, 10; Isa. xlii, 8; xlviii, 11; Ezek. xxviii, 22; comp. John v, 23;
Rom. xi, 36; xvi, 27], so also the moral man seeks, and rightly so, his
honor, but only such as is at the same time honor before God, namely, a
recognition of his conduct and spirit as those of a child of God, and
hence an honor which is at the same time the witness of a good
conscience before God [Psa. iii, 3; lxxiii, 24; cxii, 9; John v, 44;
xii, 26, 43; Rom. ii, 6, 7, 10, 29; v, 2; 1 Cor. iv, 5; 2 Cor. x,
18],--the pleasures of God in him who loves Him [2 Cor. v, 9; Col. i,
10]. In this sense honor before men and the children of God is a high
good [Psa. vii, 5; xlix, 11; lxxxiv, 12; Prov. iii, 16, 35; viii, 18;
xi, 16; xxi, 21; xxii, 4; xxix, 23; Phil. ii, 29], and to disesteem
such honor is either to think unworthily or to be too high-minded.
Personal honor and social custom condition man's moral home. Society
and country are only in so far a home as they are expressive of the
spiritually-moral life of society. My fatherland is not where I am
outwardly prosperous, but where I enjoy myself morally,--feel myself
vitally at one with a moral community. Mere nature forms a sort of home
only for the savage; a true home is of a spiritual character, and
nature is such only as brought within the sphere of history, as
transformed by man. It is at home that man enjoys his existence; the
far-off is tempting mostly only for him who is as yet in process of
development toward spiritual and character-maturity; the seeking of a
new home is in normal circumstances less an affair of the single
individual than of whole branches of a nation, namely, in cases of the
founding of new colonies; but here in fact the moral home migrates
along. To be shut out from one's home is properly regarded as a severe
misfortune; the declaration that he should be a fugitive wanderer in
the earth was the bitterest element in the curse upon Cain; among
ancient nations banishment was the severest of punishments.
(c) THE MORAL ORGANIZATION OF SOCIETY.
SECTION CLI.
As single persons unite themselves into a family and develop in it a
vitally organic life in common, so in turn society unites itself into a
higher-organized copy of the family, into a society-family, into a
homogeneous moral organism,--organizes itself into a real unitary life;
social custom rises from being primarily a purely spiritual, impersonal
power, and becomes a real personally-represented and actually self
executing power,--that is, it becomes social right as expressed in law,
in which form morality becomes for and over the individual an objective
reality and power, and is not a mere formula but is in fact embodied in
and tested and executed by moral personalities. There is no law without
a personal representative and executor of the same.
If at first view society appears as a mere falling apart of the family,
as a loosening of the narrower bond of love and duties as existing in
the family itself, as a dissolution of the family-generated collective
spirit into mere independent individual spirits, as a freer-making of
the single individuals,--and if it is nevertheless, at the same time, a
necessary progress beyond the mere family-life,--still there can be no
resting at mere society and social custom, but society must in turn in
its further development return back to the fundamental character of the
family,--must exalt itself to the ideal of the family and of its moral
organism, even as the plant, when unfolded out of the seed into
branches and leaves, in turn generates again in the fruit the original
seed. This return of society to the family takes place not merely
through the fact that society itself becomes the occasion to constantly
new unitings of families, but essentially by the fact that it itself
takes on the character of a family of a higher grade,--that custom
itself (which rules in society only as a bodiless spirit) assumes full
objective reality, attains to flesh and blood and vital force, so as to
vindicate and execute itself against whatever individual will may
oppose it. Social custom depends for its realization entirely on its
favorable recognition on the part of individuals; it falls away
powerless where it meets with extended resistance; but when raised to
the state of social right or law, it Can itself compel recognition in
the face of such resistance,--can force its opposers to submit
themselves to general rationality as incarnated in the law. Just as
mere custom is society-virtue as sentiment, so is law
society-character,--with firm will-force for carrying itself out.
Custom is, as it were, the heart-rich idealistic bride-state of public
morality; right as enunciated in law is its marriage-state with the
full earnestness of obligation; the former rests on the discretion of
the individual; the latter binds the individual unconditionally and
with the power of active compulsion. That is surely a very bad legal
condition of society where right is accomplished only by coercion and
fear; and the normal condition of society is that where the law is
inscribed in, and a vital force of, every individual heart, and that,
too, as law and not as a mere and, as it were, simply beseeching
custom; and where it does not find free recognition, there it should
not bow its head and suffer in silence, but it has been intrusted by
God with the sword for the punishment of evil doers, and for the praise
of them that do well [1 Pet. ii, 14; Rom. xiii, 1-4]. That would be a
bad-ordered family where the father, as against his disobedient
children, merely be, wailed in inactivity,--where he should not
virtualize his true moral love by palpable chastisement; and organized
society has, as the higher-developed family, also the love-duty of
coercion and penal chastisement. Morality cannot and ought not to have
a merely subjective form; it should attain also to objective
reality,--should become a power above the individual person, and that,
too, not as merely conceived, but as having full reality; and this
condition is realized only in the fact that right or objective morality
is not a mere thought, a mere written code, but that it has its
personal upholders and executors; this is not merely human order, it is
divine order.--As the highest form of the moral community-life,
positively-organized society cannot do away with the earlier stages,
the family and society in the larger sense of the word,--but as it is
itself based upon them, it must necessarily contain them within itself,
and foster and promote them. A state which, as was the case with
Plato's, swallows up the family is totally illegitimate and in utter
conflict with the moral idea. That unlimited autocracy of the state
which assumes to be the sole and absolute source of right is a heathen
notion, and, within the Christian world, anti-moral.
SECTION CLII.
The difference, as necessarily existing in every moral communion, of
the morally-advanced and the morally less-matured, and which finds its
first expression in the relation of parents and children, forms also
the basis of organized society. In this society the duty of forming, of
guiding and of educating falls mainly to the former; that of
appropriating and obeying, to the latter. The guiding rests entirely on
morally-religious culture, and aims by general forming to make of
society a moral art-work, a moral organism. The difference between the
guiding or ruling ones and the guided and obeying ones, is therefore
per se strictly identical with the difference between the morally and
religiously higher-developed (the prophets and priests) and the as yet
to-be-developed, namely, the general public, the body of society. In so
far as the moral organism expresses the antithesis of priest-prophets
and people-congregation in the sphere of religion, it is the church; in
so far as it expresses the antithesis of the ruling and the ruled in
the sphere of law or right, it is the state. In a normally constituted
and absolutely sin-free society church and state are perfectly
identical, and the moral organism appears as a theocracy; its definite
popular form would be a fully developed patriarchal state. The
religious and the legal commonalty in their perfect unity are the
morally developed family; and as its inner law and essence are
absolutely the moral law itself, which rules at the same time as a
vital power in the hearts of all its members, hence the
theocratically-organized religiously-moral society is the historical
realization of the kingdom of God on earth, and its perfecting is the
goal of all rationally-moral effort, of the individual as well as of
society as a whole; and the spiritual and moral development of humanity
toward this ultimate end forms universal history.
We have nothing to do here with the actual church and the actual state,
which are both essentially conditioned on, and constituted in view of
combating, sin, but with the ideal moral community-life which is free
of all sin. The family continues to be the moral basis and the pattern.
The inner difference between the guiding and the guided can, in a
sinless state of things, be only of a very mild and a merely relatively
valid character. In a perfect religious community all the mature
members are of priestly character, are invested with the duty of
spiritual guidance; and in a perfect civil society all the mature
citizens participate in the spiritual and moral guidance of the whole;
and the more perfect the collective development of all the members, so
much the more does the fundamental relation of fathers and children
retire into the back-ground, and assume rather the form of the gentler
antithesis of the two sexes in marriage.
As in the normal family, religious and moral life are united, and the
father is also the spiritual and priestly guide of the religious life,
hence in the ideal social organism, church and state are simply one and
the same thing; they are but two absolutely inseparable phases of the
same spiritual life. All religion becomes social reality, and all
social life rests on religion; the normal state is also a church,. and
the true church develops out of itself a corresponding social
community-life,--as was seen in the early Christian church, and as, in
recent times, the Unitas Fratrum, from a correct presentiment of the
goal of Christian history, has partially carried out. That the father
of the people should also be the chief bishop, is implied in the
prototype of the moral commonalty; but whether in this particular the
ideal is to be applied to the very unideal present reality of the
world, it is not here the place to decide. The patriarchal state is the
primitive manner of morally organizing society,--the one most nearly
related to the family prototype; and the family-chief of the closely
related tribe is at once its chief leader and its priest; lie
represents, however, not his single personal will, but the moral will
of the whole, which is in turn itself a faithful expression of the
divine will. For this simple reason the ideal form of the social state
is necessarily and essentially a theocracy; for it is only in a vital
communion with God that the rulers of the people have their right,
their law, their power; and it is not the mere divine law that is the
all-guiding factor, but the living personal God himself, who enlightens
and guides his trusting children, and governs directly through his
prophets and anointed ones. The divine right of a true magistracy is
based on this idea, but is valid as a moral right only in so far as
humble submission to God rules in the hearts of the rulers. The
theocracy of the Old Testament [Exod. xix, 3-6; Deut. vii, 6 sqq.;
xxxiii, 5; 1 Sam. viii, 6 sqq.; Isa. xxxiii, 22] is only a faint shadow
of that which was to have been realized in sinless humanity, and of
which as partially regained through redemption only glimpses are caught
in prophetic vision [Isa. ii, 2; iv, 2 sqq.; ix, 6 sqq.; xi, 1 sqq.;
xxxii, 15 sqq.: lxv, 17 sqq.; Ezek. xxxiv, 23 sqq.; xxxvi, 24 sqq.;
xxxvii, 24 sqq.]. The mysterious phenomenon of the priest-king of
Salem, Melchizedek [Gen. xiv, 18 sqq.; Heb. vii, 1 sqq.; Psa. cx, 4],
like a reminiscence of a long-forgotten better age floating down into a
totally different present,--perhaps the last scion of those who had
remained faithful to the Covenant of Noah outside of the family of
Abraham,--is in some respects the expression of a true theocracy as it
exists in a higher manner only in Christ. With the Israelites royalty
and priesthood were in fact separate; Aaron and David represent the two
sides of the one theocratical idea; Samuel approximated this idea, but
was more a priest than a king. The theocratical form of society was
realized in Old Testament times only in its first beginnings, in the
family-state of the patriarchs. The people of Israel was both outwardly
and inwardly too little at peace both with the world and with God to be
able to sustain a theocratical form of government; it is only in
"Salem" that the Prince of Peace can rule.
The moral commonalty in its double form as church and state is, on the
one hand, a complete preserving and virtualizing of the personal moral
freedom of the individuals, in that the collective will, as manifesting
itself in laws and in the government, is at the same time the will of
the individual, and on the other, a real objective presentation of the
moral idea with a determining power for and over the individual, but
which acts as a limit to the freedom of the individual only when this
freedom has fallen from its harmony with God into irrational caprice.
In the ideal state all morality becomes right or law, and all law is a
pure expression of morality. When this moral commonalty has become a
full reality, then it is the kingdom of God as having attained to
historical form and reality. The kingdom of God comes not, it is true,
with outward show [Luke xvii, 20, 21], inasmuch as it exists primarily
in the hearts of men; but when it has come into the hearts of men--when
God has assumed form within them--then will also the kingdom of God
itself take upon itself a form, and the collective history of the
God-imbued portion of humanity (the true church) is simply this
gradually self-developing form. As soon, however, as sin has entered
into reality, then church and state at once fall apart, and dissolve
themselves in turn into discordant and contradictory subdivisions, and
the kingdom of everlasting peace becomes a plurality of kingdoms of
endless strife. The moral or ideal destination of universal history is,
to be the uniformly undisturbed evolution of the kingdom of God; to
confound its criminal reality with the unclouded ideal, is to deny
ethical moral truth. But universal history, in its pure and normal
form, is the development of humanity as unitary (S: 88); of this
humanity the statement would hold good in the most perfect manner, that
"the whole earth was of one language and of one speech" [Gen. xi, 1].
__________________________________________________________________
[9] Rothe appears to have become dissatisfied with this exposition of
the conscience. In his revised edition (Theol. Ethik, 2 Auf., 1867, S:
177, Anm. 3) he carries his dissatisfaction with the term conscience so
far as entirely to exclude it from his work. He declares the word as
"scientifically inadmissible," inasmuch as it is devoid of "accurately
determined logical contents;"--it is but a popular expression for the
collective moral nature of man.--Translator.
[10] See, for the Romish view, Thom. Aqu., Summa, II, 1, qu. 108, 4;
Bellarmini, De Controv. Fid. II. 2, De Monachis, c. 7 sqq.--For the
opposite view: Joh. Gerhard, Loci Th., Loc. 17 (De Evang.) c. 15; M.
Chemnitius, Loci, De Diser. Praecept. et Cons.
[11] See the author's Gesch. des Heidentums, i, 141, and his Deutscher
Volksaberglaube, 1860.
[12] Tertull.: Apolog., c. 39; Wuttke: Gesch. d. Heident., i, p. 177.
[13] See Wuttke's Gesch. des Heident. I, pp. 127 sqq., 268 sqq., 311;
II, pp. 64, 343 sqq, 547 sqq.
[14] Compare: Zoeckler, Theologia naturalis, 1859.
[15] Bridgewater Treatises, vol. 9; Koestlin, Gott in der Natur, 1851.
[16] See Wuttke's Gesch. des Heident, II, p. 466 sqq.
[17] Ep. 79 ad Salvin., I, p. 500; ed Vallars.; adv. Jovinian., t. I,
pp. 267, 342.
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GENERAL INDEX TO VOLS. I AND II.
Aaron vs. David, ii, 337.
Abel, ii, 231, 280.
Abelard, i, 205.
Abortion, in Greece, i, 66, 85, 119; as viewed by the Jesuits, 269.
Abraham, purpose of the call of, i, 157; his marriage, ii, 321.
"Accommodation," i, 260.
Achilles, i, 41, 63.
Adiaphora, i, 253; ii, 123.
Adornment, ii, 242.
Adultery, Jesuitical teachings in regard to, i, 266 sqq.; ii, 309.
AEnesidemus, i, 145.
Agrippa of Nettesheim, i, 281.
Ahura-Mazda, i, 60.
"Akosmism," i, 289.
Albertus Magnus, i, 208.
Alcuin, i, 200.
Allihn, i, 357.
Alsted, i, 248.
Ambrose, i, 191.
Amesius, i, 247.
Amiability, i, 106.
Ammon, i, 338, 360.
Amyraud, i, 247.
Andreae, i, 248.
Androgynism, ii, 305.
Anger, i, 105, 108.
Angra-mainyus, i, 59.
Animals, ii, 202, 264, 267, 270.
Anti-hero-worship, of the Jews, i, 163.
Antisthenes, i, 72.
Apocrypha, ethics of the, i, 169.
Apollo, i, 63.
Apologia, the, ii, 44, 62.
Appropriation vs. formation and sparing, ii, 180; 186; sexual, 189;
spiritual, 190; 214; 237; natural, 266.
Architecture, sacred, ii, 207.
Arnauld, i, 274.
Arndt, John, i, 249.
Arrian, i, 133.
Aristippus, i, 73.
Aristotle, i, 41, 89; relation to Plato, 92; works of, 92 sqq.;
influence on the Middle Ages, 93; on the God-idea, 94; on virtue, 96;
on the highest good, 97; on depravity, 102; on the virtues, 103 sqq.;
on the contemplative life, 109; on the community-life, 110; on
friendship, 111; on democracy, 114; on marriage, 119; on education,
120; on war, 121; vs. the Christian spirit, 124.
Art, ii, 205, 209; 271.
Art-works, ii, 184; 205 sqq.
Asceticism, Brahminic, i, 51; Buddhistic, 54; early Christian, 183; ii,
268.
Astesanus, i, 222.
Atheism, i, 52; of the Epicureans, 129; of La Mettrie, 320; 352 sqq.
Augustine, ii, 192; on grace and on the will, 193; on the principle of
virtue, 194; on the four cardinal and the three theological virtues,
195; on the divine counsels, 196.
Autonomy, ii, 7, 9, 18.
Avesta, the, i, 59.
Awe, ii, 173.
Azorio, i, 256.
Baader, i, 342, 375.
Babylonians, the, i, 54.
Bacon, i, 303.
Balduin, i, 251.
Banishment, ii, 332.
Barnabas, i, 181.
Basnage, i, 248.
Basedow, i, 322.
Basil, i, 190.
Bauer, G. L., i, 152; Bruno and Edgar, 354.
Bauny, i, 257, 263.
Baumgarten, Alex., i, 298; Jacob, 325.
Baumgarten-Crusius, i, 361.
Baxter, i, 248.
Beautiful, the, i, 63; ii, 9.
Beauty vs. morality, i, 65; vs. the ethical, 80; ii, 242.
Becoming, the, ii, 210.
Bede, i, 199.
Beneke, i, 357.
Bernard, St., i, 206, 224.
Bertling, i, 325.
Besombes, i, 376.
Besset, i, 257.
Bliss, ii, 283.
Blood-relationship vs. marriage, ii, 320 sqq.
Boehme, i, 342.
Boethius, i, 197.
Bolingbroke, i, 312.
Bona, i, 275.
Bonaventura, i, 224.
Brahma, i, 41, 42, 45; ii, 184.
Brahminism, i, 48 sqq.
Brandis, i, 107, 123.
Braniss, i, VII.
Breithaupt, i, 255.
Brothers vs. sisters, ii. 318.
Bruno, i, 281.
Buddaeus, i, 324.
Buddhism, i, 41, 48, 52 sqq.
Buechner, i, 354.
Busenbaum, i, 257.
Butchering, moral influence of, ii, 268.
Cain, ii, 231, 285, 332.
Calixt, i, 250.
Calvin, i, 242; on the virtues, 243; ii, 301.
Cana, the marriage at, ii, 188.
Canz, i, 298, 325.
Caste, i, 49, 83, 120.
Castration, i, 269; ii, 265.
Casuistry, i, 199, 221, 250, 255.
"Categorical imperative," the, i, 330; ii, 33, 52, 83.
"Celestial kingdom," the, i, 45.
Celibacy, i, 188: 189, 254.
Chalybaeus, i, 357.
Chase, the, and war, i, 121.
Chastity, i, 181.
Childhood, ii, 69, 263.
Child-innocence, ii, 152.
Children vs. parents, ii, 313.
Chinese, ethics, i, 43; virtue, 46; marriage, 47.
Christ, the nature of his moral precepts, ii, 87; his comeliness, 243.
Christian ethics, i, 173, 328; ii, 1; threefold form of, 2.
Christianity, scientific impulse given by, i, 179.
Chrysostom, i, 190.
Church vs. state, ii, 335.
Chytraeus, i, 242.
Cicero, i, 132, 149; on collision of duties, 150; 280.
Clarke, i, 306.
Clavasio, i, 222.
Cleanliness, ii, 242 sqq.
Clemens Alexandrinus, i, 186.
Clothing, ii, 245 sqq.
Collins, i, 310.
Collision of duties, i, 150; ii, 136, 292.
Commands vs. prohibitions, ii, 124.
Communism of Plato, i, 84; of the Stoics, 141.
Community-life, the, i, 82, 110, 220; ii, 76, 302.
Compassion, Buddhistic, i, 53; 286.
Concini, i, 376.
Concilia vs. praecepta, ii, 113.
Concubines, i, 65; ii, 307.
Condillac, i, 314.
Confession, ii, 223.
Confidence vs. distrust, ii, 261.
Confucius. i, 44.
Consanguinity, ii, 155.
Conscience, i, 339; ii, 99 sqq.
Considerateness, ii, 282.
Consorts vs. blood-relatives, ii, 313.
Constance, the Council of, i, 260.
Contemplative life, the, favored by Aristotle, i, 115; by St. Victor,
224.
Continence, i, 108.
Contract-marriage, ii, 307.
Corporeality, ii, 60.
Courage, i, 103; ii, 291, 292, 296.
Counsels, the, i, 196, 215, 242.
Culture vs. savagery, ii, 288.
Creation, to be completed by the creature, ii, 274.
Crell, i, 281.
Crueger, i, 325.
Crusius, i, 299, 326.
Cudworth, i, 306.
Cumberland, i, 305.
Culmann, i, 375.
Custom, ii, 325; vs. law, 333.
Customariness, i, 21, 348.
Cynics, i, 72.
Cynics vs. Cyrenaics, i, 73.
Cyprian, i, 189.
Cyrenaics, i, 73.
Damascenus, John, i, 198.
Damiani, i, 200.
Danaeus, i, 247; ii, 57.
Dance, the, ii, 247.
Dannhauer, i, 251.
Darwinism, ii, 154.
Daub, i, 344, 351.
Death, Epicurean view of, i, 138; ii, 67.
Dedekenn, i, 352.
Decalogue, the, ii, 28.
Deism, i, 302, 312.
Depravity, i, 38, 42; Plato's explication of, 78, 79; Aristotle's
remedy for, 114; 123.
Descartes, i, 282, 288.
Determinism, i, 282, 293.
Devotedness, ii, 298.
De Wette, his works, i, 37; 360.
Diana, i, 264, 270.
Diderot, i, 319.
Dignity, ii, 330.
Diligence, ii, 294.
Diodorus, quoted, i, 57.
Diogenes, i, 74; ii, 279.
Dionysius the Areopagite, i, 198.
Discretionary, the sphere of the, i, 155; ii, 122.
Distrust, ii, 261.
Divorce, i, 85; vs. barrenness, ii, 308.
Dogmatics, vs. ethics, i, 22 sqq.; the presupposition of ethics, 180;
ii, 31.
Domestic animals, ii, 264.
Dualism, i, 60, 62, 63, 87; Stoic, 133; Schellingian, 341 sqq.
Duerr, i, 250.
Duns Scotus, i, 217; ii, 85.
Dunte, i, 251.
Duties, the, i, 296; all duties are duties to God, ii, 148.
Duty, i, 345; ii, 336 sqq.; vs. right, 139.
Eberhard, i, 298.
Ebionites and Gnostics, i, 185.
Ecclesiastes, the Book of, i, 168.
Eckart, i, 225; ii, 20.
Eden, ii, 51, 275.
Education, Platonic, i, 84; Aristotelian, 119 sqq.; ii, 198 sqq.
Egyptian ethics, i, 55 sqq.
Egyptians, the, i, 54; ii, 191.
Elvenich, i, 357.
Empirical ethics, i, 28.
End, the, sanctifies the means, i, 260; ii, 179.
Endemann, i, 326.
Endurance, Buddhistic, i, 53.
Enthusiasm, ii, 173; vs. the ideal, 174; 206.
Epictetus, i, 132.
Epicurean view, of the highest good, i, 129; of pleasure, 130; of right
and wrong, of religion, of death, of the universe, 129-131; ii, 55.
Epicureanism, principle of, i, 128 sqq.; realistic, 142; vs.
Christianity, 143.
Epicurus, i, 128.
Equanimity, i, 105.
Erasmus, i, 279, 281.
Erigena, i, 201, 223.
"Eros," i, 79.
Escobar, i, 257.
Ethics, defined, i, 13; Harless' and Schleiermacher's definition, 15;
Platonic, 79 sqq.; Aristotelian, 93 sqq.; Epicurean, 129; Stoic, 141;
Old Testament, 151; Christian, 173; heathen, 177; vs. dogmatics, 180;
Patristic, 181; medieval, 199; Protestant, 235; I Reformed vs.
Lutheran, 244 sqq.; Roman Catholic, 255, 375; Spinozistic, 281;
Leibnitzian, 290; Wolfian, 292; Lockean, 303; materialistico-French,
314 sqq.; Kantian, 327; Fichtean, 338; Schellingian, 342; Hegelian, 345
sqq.; Schleiermacherian, 361; Rothean, 371; classification of; ii,
23-34.
"Eudaemonia," i, 97, 109.
Eudemonism, i, 328; ii, 176.
Eve, ii, 103, 249.
Evil, i, 13, 42; Plato's view of, 78; origin of, 156.
Example, ii, 86, 260.
Fables, ii, 267.
Fairness, i, 107.
Faith, i, 153, 212; ii, 10; vs. knowledge, 12; 215; as a virtue, 298.
Fall, the, in Persia, i, 60; true nature of, ii, 166.
Falsehood, i, 85; ii, 192 sqq.
Family, the, in China, i, 46; in India, 51; in Greece, 85, 110 sqq.; in
Israel, 165.
Family-honor, ii, 323.
Fatalism. i, 115.
Fear of God, ii, 89.
Feder, i, 301.
Feeling, ii, 13, 49, 98, 159, 249; its perfection, ii, 283.
Fenelon, i, 276.
Ferguson, i, 312.
Feuerbach, i, 351.
Feuerlein, i, 37.
Fidelity, ii, 293.
Fichte, i, 338; his moral canon, 339; J. H., 358.
Fischer, i, 358.
Filliucci, i, 257.
Flatt, i, 360.
Formation, ii, 180, 198 sqq.
Frederick the Great, i, 320.
Freedom, i, 38; true, ii, 280.
"Free love," i, 85.
Friendship, i, 111 sqq.; Christian, ii, 318; vs. friendliness.
Fulbert, i, 200.
Future life, i, 41; Egyptian view of, 57; Aristotle's view of, 95; why
not prominent in the Mosaic law, 161 sqq.
Gallantry, ii, 319, 327.
Garve, i, 301.
Gassendi, i, 314.
Gellert, i, 300.
Genettus, i, 272.
Gerhard, i, 252.
"German Theology," i, 229.
Gerson, i, 228.
Gifts, i, 125; ii, 259.
Giving, ii, 258.
Goal, the Chinese, i, 44; the Brahminic, 49; the Buddhistic, 53; the
Persian, 60; the Platonic, 91; the Aristotelian, 96; the Mosaic, 154;
the Christian, 174; 220; ii, 7, 24, 30,149, 274.
God, the basis and measure of the moral, ii, 9; his free immutability,
85; 145; 232.
God-consciousness, the, ii, 80.
God-fearing, ii, 172; vs. God-trusting, 173.
God-likeness, i, 77; ii, 164. God-worship, ii, 276.
Gonzales, i, 262.
Good, the, i, 13, 40; among the Chinese, 42; among the Greeks, 43;
among the Indians, 47; according to Plato, 77; according to Aristotle,
96; according to Peter Lombard, 206; ii, 5, sqq.; vs. the moral, 10;
three phases of, 91.
Gossip, ii, 261.
Grace-saying, ii, 188.
Grafflis, i, 272.
Grecian, the, his unseriousness, i, 67; his presumption, 68; his
virtues, 293.
Gregory, of Nyssa, of Nazianzum, i, 190; the Great, 198.
Guion, Madame, i, 276.
Gutzkowv, i, 362.
Gymnastics, ii, 241.
Habit, i, 99; ii, 290.
Hales, i, 208.
Hanssen, i, 325.
Happiness, ii, 175.
Harless, i, XII, 22, 374; ii, 28.
Hartenstein, i, 357.
Hatred, ii, 161 sqq.
Heart, ii, 101.
Heathen ethics, ground-character of, i, 38, 177; ii, 175.
Heathenism. i, 39, 64, 86, 155.
Hebrew ethics, i, 156.
Hegel, his view of ethics, i, 20; 345; on State and Church, 349.
Heidegger, i, 248.
Helvethis, i, 314.
Hemming, i, 242.
Hengstenberg, i, VI.
Henriquez, i, 256.
Hellene, the, i, 64 sqq.
Help-meet, the idea of, ii, 309.
Herbart, i, 356.
Hermaphrodite, ii. 75.
Heroic virtue, i, 108.
Heydenreich, i, 336.
Highest good, the, i, 97, 159, 161, 176, 209, 365; ii, 6, 43; 276.
Hildebert, i, 204.
Hirscher, i, 376; ii, 117.
Hobbes, i, 304.
Holbach, i, 321.
Holiness, ii, 285, 286.
Home, significance of, ii, 331.
Honor, ii, 183, 253.
Hope, i, 212; as a virtue, ii, 299.
Hospitality, ii, 196.
Human flesh, the eating of, i, 270.
Humanism, i, 279.
Humanity, i, 38, 121.
Hume, i, 311.
"Humanitarianism," i, 66, 121; ii, 255.
Humility, i, 175; as a virtue, ii, 298.
Hunger, ii, 187.
Huss, i, 231.
Hutcheson, i, 310.
Ideal, the, vs. the real, ii, 82.
Illuminism, i, 302, 322, 327, 337; ii, 20.
Image, the, of God, ii, 37, 42.
Immortality, ii, 51.
Incarnation, conditional or unconditional, ii. 86.
Incomprehensibility of God, ii, 44.
Innocence vs. holiness, ii, 285.
Intercession, ii, 224.
Irenaeus, i, 185.
Isenbiehl, i, 376.
Isidore, i, 190, 198. Islamism, i, 171.
Israel, the world-historical significance of, i, 157 sqq.
Jacob, i, 159; L. H., 336.
Jacobi, i, 342, 344.
Jansenism, i, 273.
Jealousy, ii, 196.
Jerome, i, 192.
Jesuits, i, 256 sqq.; their Pelagianism, 260; their moral laxity, 264;
on equivocation, 266; on adultery, 268; ii, 178.
Jocham, i, 376.
John, of Salisbury, i, 220 sqq.; of Goch, 231.
Jovinian, i, 192.
Judaism, i, 171, 282.
Judas, i, 343.
Judith, the Book of, i, 171.
Justin, i, 186;.
Just mean, the, i, 45; of Aristotle, 100.
Justness, i, 81, 106; ii, 294.
Kaehler, i, 361.
Kant, i, 324, 327; his ethical works, 329; his canon of morality, 330;
criticised, 333; his second canon, 334; ii, 22, 39, 44, 52, 83; on
prayer, 222.
Keckermann, i, 247.
Kiesewetter, i, 336.
Kingdom of God, the, i, 156; ii, 276.
Kiss, the, significance of, ii, 356.
Klein, i, 344.
Knowledge vs. faith, ii, 12.
Koenig, i, 251.
Koestlin, ii, 266.
Krause, i, 344.
Labor, ii, 203, 271.
Lactantius, i, 191.
La Mettrie, i, 320.
Lampe, i, 248.
Lange, S. G., i, 338.
Latin theology vs. Grecian, i, 193.
Law, ii, 90.
Laymann, i, 257.
Leibnitz, i, 278, 290; his theodicy, 291.
Less, i, 257, 326.
Liberality, i, 104.
Liberum arbitrium, ii, 45.
Life-stages, ii, 67.
Licorio, i, 375.
Lipsius, i, 281.
Lobkowitz, i, 271.
Locke, i, 303.
Lombard, Peter, i, 206.
Love, Platonic, i, 99; Christian, ii, 213; vs. hatred, 161 sqq.; vs.
fear, 172; vs. happiness-seeking, 176; a duty, 178; 201, 257.
Luther, i, 235; ii, 109.
Lutheran ethics, i, 244.
Magic, ii, 157.
Magnanimity, i, 105; portrayed by Aristotle, 124 sqq.
Majority, i, 168; civil vs. moral, ii, 70.
Malder, i, 272.
Mandula, i, 271.
Manichees, ii, 268.
Manliness, i, 81.
Manu, the Laws of, i, 48.
Marcus Aurelius, i, 133.
Mariana, i, 269.
Marriage, moral presuppositions of, ii, 304 sqq.
Masculinity, ii, 75.
Marheineke, i, 37, 146, 352.
Marriage, Brahminic, i, 51; Grecian, 66; Platonic, 85; Aristotelian,
118; Stoic, 140; Israelitic, 165; early Christian, 181; "irresistible
aversion" in, ii, 169; Christian, 310 sqq.; requires diverse qualities
in consorts, 321.
Martensen, i, 358.
Martin, i, 376.
Materialism, ii, 61.
Maxim vs. law, ii, 133.
Maximus, i, 198.
Mehmel, i, 341.
Meier, i, 250, 299.
Meiner, i, 37.
Melanchthon, i, 236; his works, 237; on will-freedom, 239.
Melchizedek, ii, 336.
Mengering, i, 251.
Mexicans, the, i, 43.
Michelet, i, 351.
Middle-way, the, i, 100.
Minority, ii, 68.
Miracles, i, 158.
Moderation, ii, 189.
Moral element, the, of an action, ii, 178.
Morality, Chinese, i, 50; Buddhistic, 52 sqq.; Persian, 62; Grecian,
63; Socratic, 70; Platonic, 79; Israelitic, 154; Christian, 174;
Patristic, 181; Hegelian, 347; ii, 8; vs. religion, 15; centrifugal,
17.
Moeller, i, 344.
Mohammed, i, 172.
Moleschott, i, 354.
Molinos, i, 275; ii, 20.
Monasticism, beginnings of, i, 183; 200.
Monkery, ii, 280.
More, i, 306.
Morus, i, 326.
Motive, general nature of, ii, 159; 179.
Moses, i, 164.
Mosheim, i, 15, 326.
Mueller, i, 351.
Mummies, significance of, i, 57.
"Must" and "should," antagonistic, i, 14; ii, 90; 167.
Mysticism, i, 198, 224, 231, 273, 275, 341; ii, 18, 20.
Name-giving, ii, 39.
Name-interchanging, ii, 260.
Narcissus, ii, 321.
Natalis, i, 272.
Nationalities, ii, 73.
Naturalism, i, 144: Greek, 122; Epicurean, 129; 288.
Nature, its destination, ii, 156; duties toward, 264; symbolism in,
266; abuse of, 272.
Navarra, i, 265.
Neander, i, 37.
Nebuchadnezzar, i, 58.
Neighbor-love, ii, 254.
Neo-Platonism, i, 144, 147; Pantheistic, 148; mystical, 149.
Nicole, i, 274.
Nimrod, i, 58.
"Nirvana," i, 40.
Nitzsch, i, 24; F., ii, 58.
Nobility, ii, 324.
Normality, moral, ii, 286.
Nudity, in art, ii, 244.
Obedience, ii, 298.
Objective morality, i. 86.
Official morality, ii, 78.
Old age, ii, 68.
Olearius, i, 251.
Ontology, Chinese, i, 44; Balhminic. 48; Buddhistic, 52; Egyptian, 55;
Semitic, 57; Persian, 59; Grecian, 63; Platonic, 78; Aristotelian, 94;
Epicurean, 131, 142; Stoic, 133, 142; Hebrew, 153; Neo-Platonic, 201;
Spinozistic, 282; Leibnitzian, 290; Kantian, 329; Fichtean, 338;
Schellingian, 342; Hegelian, 345 sqq.
Opera supererogatoria, i, 234.
Origen, i, 187.
Ornamentation, ii, 244.
Osiander, i, 251.
Osiris, i, 56.
Palmer, i, 29, 374.
Pain, ii, 60.
Pantheism, Indian, i, 47; Neo-Platonic, 147; mediaeval, 198; of
Erigena, 201; of Eckart, 225; of Spinoza, 282; of Fichte, 337; of
Schelling, 341; of Hegel, 346; of Strauss, 352; ii, 47; moral tendency
of; 81 sqq.; vs. prayer, 222.
Paradise, i, 45; true significance of, ii, 197; 212.
Parents vs. children, ii, 313.
"Parrhaesia," ii, 297.
Pascal, i, 274.
Patuzzi, i, 376.
Peace, ii, 163.
Pederasty, i, 141.
Pelagianism, i, 260, 279.
Pennaforti, i, 222.
Peraldus, i, 219.
Perazzo, i, 272.
Perfection, moral, i, 278.
Perkins, i, 248.
Pericles, i, 65.
Personal honor, ii, 330.
Peru, ii, 121.
Petition, ii, 224.
Pharisaism, i, 136. 232.
Philosophical ethics, i, 16, 27; vs. theological, 28; 355.
Physiognomics, ii, 243.
Piccolomini, i, 256.
Piety, i, 81; ii, 15; vs. morality, 147; 170.
Pietism, i, 252, 337.
Piety-virtues, the, ii, 297.
Plant-sparing, ii, 184.
Plato, i, 75; his works, 76; on the virtues, 81; on the state, 82; on
caste, 83; on property, 84; on divorce, 85; on religion, 91; on reading
Homer, 92.
Play, ii, 128.
Pleasure, i, 109; Epicurean, 130.
Plotinus, i, 147.
Plutarch, i, 151.
Polanus, i, 247.
Politeness, impersonal, ii, 326.
Polygamy, ii, 306.
Pomponatius, i, 281.
Pontas, i, 272.
Porphyry, i, 147.
Prayer, i, 177; ii, 147, 218; Kant on, 222.
Predestinarianism, i, 242, 273.
Presentiment, ii, 226.
Prierias, i, 222.
Priest vs. layman, ii, 334.
Proclus, i. 147.
Probabilism, i, 255, 261.
Property, Plato on, 84; ii, 279, 280.
Prophecy, ii, 226.
Proverbs, the Book of, i, 167.
Prudence, ii 282.
Pyramids, the, significance of, i, 57,
Pyrrho, i, 145.
Quesnel, i, 274.
Quietism, i, 273, 275; ii, 18, 303.
Race, the human, its unity, ii, 153.
Radicalism, i, 346.
Rationalistic ethics, i, 37, 322, 324; ii, 22.
Rationality, ii, 6; vs. morality, 9; 41.
Raymond of Toulouse, i, 230.
Reynauld, i, 257.
Reason, i, 329; the practical, 331.
Recluse-life, the, ii, 303.
Redemption, progressively revealed, i, 166.
Reformation, the, i, 232, 233.
Reinhard, i, 360.
Religion vs. morality, ii, 15; centripetal, 17.
Repentance, i, 286.
"Republic," the, of Plato, i, 82; criticised, 290; ii, 276, 334.
"Rescuer" of the Persians, i, 61.
Reservatio mentalis, i, 255, 266, 271.
Resurrection, the, ii, 66.
Reusch, i, 325.
Reuss, i, 326.
Reverence for elders, ii, 316.
Right, three stages of, 291; 345, 347; vs. duty, ii, 139; vs. law, 332.
Rixner, i, 250.
Rodriguez, i, 257.
Roman philosophy, i, 149.
Rothe, i, XII, 9; on the scope of ethics, 18; 25, 30; on heterodoxy,
31; criticised, 32 sqq.; 359; on church and state, 372; ii, 10, 21, 24;
on conscience, 104; 110, 129, 168, 264; on the virtues, 301.
Rousseau, i, 37, 280; his ethical views, 317; 222.
Rudeness, ii, 184.
Ruisbroch, i, 228.
Sa, i, 265.
Sabbath, the, idea of, i, 155; ii, 212 sqq.
Sacrifice, ii, 218 sqq.
Sailer, i, 376.
St. Victor, i, 224.
Sakya-Muni, i, 52.
Salat, i, 245.
Sales, Francis de, i, 275.
Sanchez, i, 257.
Sarah, ii. 321.
Sanctification, ii, 285, 287.
Savages vs. history, ii, 191.
Scavini, i, 376.
Sartorius, i. 24, 374.
Satanology, i, 344.
Savonarola, i, 231.
Schleiermacher, i, XII, 317; on Spinoza, 290; 361 sqq.; ii, 24 sqq.,
39, 63, 110. 129.
Schelling, i, 280; his ontology and ethics, 341-344; ii, 47.
Schenkel, i, 337; ii, 107.
Schenkl, i, 376.
Schlegel, i, 362.
Schliephake, i, 358.
Schmid, i, 336; J. W.; 338; C. F., 374.
Schmidt, i, 338.
Scholasticism, i, 200, 203.
Schopenhauer, i, 358.
Schubert, i. 325.
Schwarz, i, 360; ii, 24, 141.
Schweitzer, ii, 58.
Self-culture, ii, 248.
Self-love, false vs. the true, i, 175; vs. God-love, ii, 165.
Self-mortification, i, 50, 274.
Secret-keeping, ii, 193.
Seneca, i, 132; on suicide, 139.
Senility, ii, 71.
Senses, the, ii, 63.
Service-rendering, ii, 261.
Servile-mindedness, ii, 185.
Sex, ii, 74; in nature, 304.
Sextus Empiricus, i, 145.
Sexual relations, Jesuitical teachings as to, i, 266.
Shaftesbury, i, 308.
Shame, i, 106; ii, 239.
Sin, its historical origin, i, 156; Christian view of, 176, 215.
Sismond, i, 264.
Sirach, the Book of, i, 169; ii, 46.
Skepticism, i, 144 sqq.; ii, 13.
Slavery, Grecian. i, 66; Aristotle's apology for, 117; ii, 152.
Sleep, i, 14.
Smith, i, 311.
Snell, i, 336.
Socinianism, i, 281.
Socrates, i, 65, 69, 70, 72; vs. his wife, 72; advances made by, 127.
Solidarity, ii, 324.
Solon, i, 66.
Sparing, ii, 180; its objects, 183; 232, 252.
Speculation, theological, i, 30.
Spener, i, 252.
Spinoza, i, 31, 278; his Ethica, ii, 1. 281; vs. Calvin, ii, 47.
Stackhouse, i, 326.
Stahl, i, 358; ii, 130.
Stapf, i, 376.
Staeuldlin, i, 36, 338.
Stapfer, i, 324.
Stattler, i, 376.
Steinbart, i, 323.
Stirner, i, 354.
Strauss, i, 352.
Strigel, i, 242.
State, the Chinese, i, 47; the Platonic, 82; the Hegelian, 345, 349.
Stoicism, i, 131; vs. Epicureanism, 132, 145; errors of, 141; vs.
Christianity, 143, 182.
Stoic view, of virtue, i, 131; of the life-goal, and of the norm of
truth, 133; of the good, 134; of religion, 136; of compassion, 137; of
death, 138; of suicide, 139; of marriage, 140.
Suarez, i, 257.
Subjectivism, i, 144.
Suicide, i, 139.
Summae casuum, i, 222.
Supererogatory works, i, 234; ii, 114 sqq.
Supralapsarianism, ii, 46.
Symbolical forming, ii, 209.
Symbolism, ii, 206.
Table-luxuries, ii, 189.
Table-pleasures, ii, 241.
Talmud, the, i, 171.
Tamburini, i, 257.
Taste, ii, 195.
Tauler, i, 226; on three kinds of works, 227; ii, 20.
Temperaments, the, ii, 71; four of them, 73, 292.
Temperateness, i, 81, 104; ii, 291, 295.
Tertullian, i, 187; on marriage, 188.
Thankfulness, ii, 262, 294.
Thanksgiving, ii. 223.
Theological ethics, i, 21, 27; vs. philosophical, 35; as a distinct
science, 247; 250, 359, 371;
Theocracy, the, in Israel, i, 166; ii, 335.
Theosophy, i, 30, 341, 375.
Thomas `a Kempis, i, 229.
Thomas Aquinas, i, 208; on the will, 209; on virtue, 211; on the
virtues, 212.
Thomasius, i, 298.
Tieftrunk, i, 336.
Titans, the, i, 64.
Tittmann, i, 326.
Tollner, i, 326.
Tolet, i, 256.
Tournley, i, 376.
Trendelenburg, ii, 107.
Trust, ii, 173.
Tweston, i, 364.
Typhon, i, 56.
Tyranny, of man over woman, ii, 311.
Tyrant-murder, Jesuitical code of, i, 269.
Unitas Fratrum, ii, 336.
Unity of mankind, ii, 152.
Utilitarianism, ii, 203.
Vatke, i. 351.
Vasquez, i, 256.
Vedas, the, i, 48.
Venial sins, i, 188, 265.
Vergier, i, 275.
Virginity, ii, 190.
Virtue, Brahminic, i, 49; Chinese, 50; Platonic, 77, 81: essence of,
207; 339, 366; ii, 177, 274; New Testament, idea of, 290.
Virtues, the cardinal, i, 195; 207, 239, 243; four chief, 290; the
Platonic, ii, 292; different classifications of, 300.
Vogel, i, 338.
Vogt, i, 354.
Volition, ii, 250.
Voltaire, i, 28; superficiality of his ethics, 319.
Von Eitzen, i, 248.
Von Henning, i, 251.
Waibel, i, 376.
Walaeus, i, 247.
Waldenses, the, i, 231.
Weber, Dr. A., i, VIII.
Wedlock-love, ii, 121.
Werner, i, 376.
Wickliffe, i, 231.
Will, the, the sphere of the moral, ii, 10.
Will-freedom, i, 14; in Aristotle, 96; threefold, 206; 209, 224, 239,
335; ii, 13, 45, 84.
Wirth, i, 357.
Wisdom, i, 81, 107; practical, ii, 133; true, 286.
Wisdom, the Book of, i, 170.
"Wise men," the, i, 69.
Wolf, i, 278, 292 sqq.
Wollaston, i, 308.
Womanliness, ii, 75.
"Woman's rights," Plato's view of, i, 86; the author's view of, ii, 310
sqq.
Worship, i, 369; ii, 215.
Writing, the art of, ii, 191.
Wuttke, sketch of his life and works, i, VII; his confessional
position, VIII; his life-task, IX; his relation to Hengstenberg, X;
character of his ethics, XII; scope of the same, 35.
Youth, prone to revolution, ii, 329.
Zeno, i, ]31 sqq.
Zoeckler, ii, 266.
__________________________________________________________________
Indexes
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Index of Scripture References
Genesis
[1]1:3 [2]1:4 [3]1:26 [4]1:27 [5]1:27 [6]1:28 [7]1:28
[8]1:28 [9]1:28 [10]1:28 [11]1:29 [12]1:29 [13]1:30
[14]1:31 [15]2:3 [16]2:9 [17]2:15 [18]2:15 [19]2:15
[20]2:16 [21]2:16 [22]2:16 [23]2:17 [24]2:17 [25]2:18
[26]2:19 [27]2:20 [28]2:21 [29]2:23 [30]2:23 [31]2:24
[32]2:24 [33]3:2 [34]3:3 [35]3:6 [36]3:16 [37]3:16
[38]3:19 [39]3:19 [40]3:20 [41]3:20 [42]3:21 [43]4:4
[44]4:4 [45]4:7 [46]4:15 [47]4:17 [48]4:21 [49]4:22
[50]4:25 [51]5:22 [52]5:24 [53]5:29 [54]6:9 [55]6:22
[56]7:5 [57]8:20 [58]8:21 [59]9:2 [60]9:3 [61]9:3 [62]9:6
[63]9:7 [64]9:9 [65]9:10 [66]9:11-12 [67]9:12 [68]9:15
[69]9:21 [70]9:23 [71]9:23 [72]9:25 [73]9:26 [74]9:27
[75]11:1 [76]11:29 [77]11:31 [78]12:2 [79]12:3 [80]12:4
[81]12:5 [82]12:13 [83]12:16 [84]12:16 [85]13:2 [86]13:8
[87]13:9 [88]14:14 [89]14:14 [90]14:18 [91]15:1 [92]15:5
[93]16:6 [94]17:1 [95]17:1 [96]17:1 [97]17:5 [98]18:1-33
[99]18:2 [100]18:19 [101]18:19 [102]18:23 [103]18:23
[104]19:1-38 [105]19:8 [106]19:8 [107]19:30 [108]20:2
[109]20:7 [110]20:12 [111]20:17 [112]21:1 [113]21:3
[114]21:11 [115]21:12 [116]21:13 [117]21:16 [118]22:1
[119]22:2 [120]22:16 [121]23:7 [122]23:12 [123]24:1-67
[124]24:18 [125]24:22 [126]24:22 [127]24:31 [128]24:35
[129]24:40 [130]24:53 [131]24:53 [132]25:21 [133]26:4
[134]26:5 [135]26:13 [136]26:14 [137]26:24 [138]27:26
[139]27:27 [140]27:28 [141]28:1-4 [142]29:11 [143]29:13
[144]29:13 [145]29:26 [146]29:31 [147]30:6 [148]30:17
[149]30:27 [150]30:30 [151]30:43 [152]31:28 [153]31:28
[154]31:42 [155]31:43 [156]31:48 [157]31:50 [158]31:55
[159]31:55 [160]32:4 [161]32:5 [162]32:10 [163]32:10
[164]32:12 [165]32:13 [166]32:13 [167]32:18 [168]33:1-20
[169]33:3 [170]33:4 [171]33:4 [172]33:5 [173]33:6 [174]33:7
[175]33:11 [176]33:12 [177]33:13 [178]33:14 [179]33:15
[180]34:1-31 [181]37:3 [182]37:10 [183]37:34 [184]37:35
[185]39:5 [186]41:14 [187]41:51 [188]41:52 [189]42:24
[190]42:25 [191]42:36 [192]43:11 [193]43:14 [194]43:16
[195]43:26 [196]43:28 [197]44:18 [198]44:18 [199]44:22
[200]44:30 [201]45:1 [202]45:9 [203]45:15 [204]45:17
[205]45:22 [206]45:28 [207]46:30 [208]48:10 [209]48:10
[210]49:7 [211]49:10 [212]49:25 [213]49:26 [214]50:1
[215]50:17
Exodus
[216]2:2 [217]2:4 [218]2:17 [219]2:20 [220]2:20 [221]2:24
[222]3:5 [223]3:5 [224]3:12 [225]3:14 [226]3:14 [227]6:27
[228]14:4 [229]18:5 [230]18:7 [231]19:3-6 [232]19:5
[233]19:8 [234]19:10 [235]19:10 [236]20:5 [237]20:6
[238]20:7 [239]20:8-10 [240]20:10 [241]20:12 [242]20:12
[243]20:15 [244]20:16 [245]20:17 [246]21:28 [247]21:29
[248]21:32 [249]23:5 [250]23:11 [251]23:15 [252]23:19
[253]23:19 [254]23:25 [255]23:26 [256]24:3 [257]24:7
[258]25:1-40 [259]28:1-43 [260]29:4 [261]30:22 [262]31:2-4
[263]31:3 [264]31:6 [265]32:9 [266]32:13 [267]33:12
[268]33:17 [269]34:6 [270]34:7 [271]34:20 [272]34:26
[273]35:1-3 [274]35:21-23 [275]36:1 [276]36:2 [277]39:1-43
Leviticus
[278]7:8 [279]7:11 [280]8:66 [281]11:44 [282]11:44
[283]11:44 [284]11:45 [285]11:45 [286]11:45 [287]17:3
[288]18:1-30 [289]18:4 [290]18:5 [291]18:9 [292]18:9
[293]18:11 [294]19:1-37 [295]19:2 [296]19:2 [297]19:3
[298]19:12 [299]19:16 [300]19:18 [301]19:18 [302]19:19
[303]19:19 [304]19:30 [305]19:32 [306]19:33 [307]19:34
[308]19:34 [309]19:35 [310]19:36 [311]19:37 [312]20:7
[313]20:7 [314]20:11 [315]20:15 [316]20:16 [317]20:17
[318]21:9 [319]21:9 [320]22:24 [321]22:28 [322]22:32
[323]25:6 [324]25:7 [325]25:18 [326]25:21 [327]26:29
[328]26:39
Numbers
[329]6:26 [330]8:6 [331]14:13 [332]14:18 [333]14:20
[334]15:38 [335]16:20 [336]31:17 [337]31:21
Deuteronomy
[338]2:7 [339]4:1-49 [340]4:6 [341]4:40 [342]5:9 [343]5:10
[344]5:16 [345]5:29 [346]6:2 [347]6:4-6 [348]6:5 [349]6:7
[350]7:6 [351]7:8 [352]7:9 [353]7:9 [354]7:9 [355]7:9
[356]7:12 [357]7:12 [358]7:13 [359]7:14 [360]9:5 [361]9:5
[362]9:26-27 [363]10:12 [364]10:12 [365]10:12 [366]10:12
[367]10:12 [368]10:12 [369]10:12 [370]10:12-14 [371]10:13
[372]10:13 [373]10:13-15 [374]10:14 [375]10:15 [376]10:16
[377]10:17 [378]10:17 [379]10:17-19 [380]10:18 [381]10:19
[382]10:19 [383]10:20 [384]10:21-23 [385]11:1 [386]11:1-3
[387]11:8-10 [388]11:10-12 [389]11:13 [390]11:19
[391]11:26-28 [392]12:1 [393]12:1-3 [394]12:2-4 [395]12:7-9
[396]12:15 [397]12:20 [398]12:32 [399]13:4 [400]13:18
[401]14:21 [402]15:14 [403]16:15 [404]16:17 [405]22:1
[406]22:1 [407]22:5 [408]22:6 [409]22:7 [410]22:9
[411]22:10 [412]22:13 [413]22:13 [414]24:25 [415]25:4
[416]25:13 [417]26:11 [418]27:15-17 [419]27:17 [420]27:22
[421]28:3 [422]29:33 [423]31:12 [424]31:13 [425]32:4
[426]32:4 [427]32:39 [428]32:46 [429]33:5 [430]33:10
[431]33:13
Joshua
[432]6:22
Judges
[433]19:20 [434]19:21
Ruth
[435]1:1-22 [436]1:9 [437]1:14 [438]2:8 [439]2:10 [440]2:20
[441]4:13
1 Samuel
[442]2:1-36 [443]2:21 [444]2:30 [445]8:6 [446]9:7 [447]10:1
[448]12:22 [449]15:6 [450]15:22 [451]18:1 [452]18:3
[453]18:4 [454]20:41
2 Samuel
[455]9:7 [456]12:16 [457]13:1 [458]13:30 [459]14:1-33
[460]14:33 [461]18:33 [462]19:1 [463]20:9 [464]21:7
1 Kings
[465]3:13 [466]3:16 [467]11:34 [468]11:39 [469]19:20
2 Kings
[470]5:16 [471]5:23 [472]5:27 [473]10:15
Esther
[474]1:8
Job
[475]5:4 [476]9:12 [477]11:8 [478]19:13 [479]21:19
[480]27:4 [481]27:6 [482]27:9 [483]27:14 [484]28:28
[485]28:28 [486]31:1-40 [487]31:32 [488]32:8 [489]35:13
[490]37:1-24 [491]41:2
Psalms
[492]1:1 [493]1:2 [494]2:12 [495]2:12 [496]3:3 [497]7:5
[498]8:1-9 [499]9:10 [500]10:17 [501]15:1-5 [502]15:2
[503]18:31-32 [504]19:1 [505]19:8 [506]19:10 [507]22:4
[508]22:5 [509]24:1 [510]25:2 [511]25:8 [512]25:8
[513]25:13 [514]25:14 [515]27:14 [516]29:2 [517]29:11
[518]31:12 [519]31:15 [520]34:8 [521]34:9 [522]34:9
[523]34:12 [524]34:14 [525]34:15 [526]37:3-4 [527]37:25
[528]37:28 [529]37:37 [530]40:4 [531]40:4 [532]40:6
[533]40:8 [534]45:3 [535]46:10 [536]49:11 [537]50:8-15
[538]50:15 [539]50:16 [540]51:16 [541]51:17 [542]51:18
[543]56:4 [544]62:1 [545]62:6 [546]62:6-7 [547]63:7
[548]63:7-9 [549]65:2 [550]66:18 [551]69:8 [552]73:24
[553]73:25 [554]78:3 [555]84:12 [556]84:13 [557]85:11
[558]85:12 [559]86:5 [560]86:15 [561]89:4 [562]91:2
[563]94:9 [564]97:1-12 [565]101:1-8 [566]102:17 [567]103:1
[568]103:2 [569]104:1-35 [570]105:15 [571]105:45 [572]106:1
[573]107:38 [574]109:9 [575]109:10 [576]110:4 [577]111:2
[578]111:10 [579]111:10 [580]111:10 [581]112:1 [582]112:2
[583]112:3 [584]112:7 [585]112:7 [586]112:9 [587]115:11
[588]117:2 [589]117:3 [590]118:5 [591]118:8 [592]119:5-6
[593]122:6 [594]127:3 [595]127:3-5 [596]128:3 [597]128:3
[598]132:15 [599]133:1 [600]145:18 [601]145:18 [602]145:18
[603]145:18 [604]145:19 [605]145:19 [606]145:19 [607]147:5
[608]147:8
Proverbs
[609]1:7 [610]1:7 [611]1:29 [612]2:2 [613]3:16 [614]3:35
[615]4:5 [616]6:6 [617]8:11 [618]8:11 [619]8:13 [620]8:18
[621]9:10 [622]9:10 [623]10:1 [624]10:1 [625]10:4
[626]11:16 [627]11:21 [628]12:10 [629]12:25 [630]12:27
[631]14:26 [632]14:34 [633]15:8 [634]15:8 [635]15:9
[636]15:20 [637]15:29 [638]15:33 [639]16:5 [640]16:6
[641]16:16 [642]16:20 [643]16:26 [644]17:6 [645]17:25
[646]18:16 [647]20:7 [648]20:12 [649]20:27 [650]20:27
[651]21:3 [652]21:21 [653]21:27 [654]22:4 [655]23:23
[656]23:25 [657]28:7 [658]28:9 [659]29:23 [660]30:17
[661]31:25
Ecclesiastes
[662]4:17 [663]6:7 [664]12:13 [665]12:13
Isaiah
[666]1:11 [667]1:15 [668]1:17 [669]2:2 [670]4:2 [671]7:15
[672]7:16 [673]7:16 [674]9:6 [675]11:1 [676]11:6 [677]14:21
[678]26:9 [679]29:13 [680]32:15 [681]33:22 [682]38:1-22
[683]38:19 [684]40:26 [685]40:28 [686]42:8 [687]43:1
[688]45:3 [689]45:4 [690]48:11 [691]49:15 [692]49:23
[693]53:1-12 [694]53:7 [695]55:8 [696]55:8 [697]55:9
[698]55:9 [699]56:5 [700]65:17 [701]65:24
Jeremiah
[702]6:20 [703]7:23 [704]7:23 [705]17:5 [706]17:6
[707]18:21 [708]22:3 [709]29:13 [710]29:14 [711]31:15
[712]31:33 [713]32:18 [714]32:18
Lamentations
[715]5:7
Ezekiel
[716]18:6-9 [717]24:17 [718]28:22 [719]34:23 [720]36:24
[721]37:24
Hosea
[722]4:6 [723]6:6 [724]14:9
Micah
[725]6:8 [726]6:8 [727]6:8
Zechariah
[728]7:9 [729]7:9 [730]7:10 [731]8:16 [732]8:16 [733]8:17
Malachi
[734]3:18
Matthew
[735]1:25 [736]2:14 [737]2:18 [738]4:1-25 [739]5:3
[740]5:3-11 [741]5:8 [742]5:12 [743]5:14-16 [744]5:21
[745]5:22 [746]5:22 [747]5:25-26 [748]5:31 [749]5:34
[750]5:35 [751]5:37 [752]5:46 [753]5:46 [754]5:47 [755]5:47
[756]5:48 [757]5:48 [758]5:48 [759]6:5-7 [760]6:6 [761]6:9
[762]6:10 [763]6:10 [764]6:10 [765]6:11 [766]6:12 [767]6:14
[768]6:15 [769]6:17 [770]6:19 [771]6:19 [772]6:20 [773]6:20
[774]6:20 [775]6:26 [776]6:33 [777]7:7 [778]7:7 [779]7:7
[780]7:12 [781]7:12 [782]7:21 [783]9:13 [784]10:9
[785]10:10 [786]10:16 [787]10:22 [788]10:37 [789]10:39
[790]10:40 [791]10:41 [792]11:6 [793]11:11 [794]11:19
[795]11:29 [796]11:49-51 [797]12:3 [798]12:4 [799]12:7
[800]12:11 [801]12:20 [802]12:50 [803]14:19 [804]14:23
[805]15:4 [806]15:8 [807]15:11 [808]15:11 [809]15:36
[810]17:20 [811]18:3 [812]18:3 [813]18:3 [814]18:4
[815]18:4 [816]18:12 [817]18:13 [818]18:19 [819]18:20
[820]19:3 [821]19:3-9 [822]19:4 [823]19:11 [824]19:16
[825]19:16 [826]19:17 [827]19:17 [828]19:17 [829]19:17
[830]19:17 [831]19:17 [832]19:21 [833]19:21 [834]19:28
[835]19:29 [836]19:29 [837]20:26 [838]20:28 [839]20:41
[840]20:42 [841]21:3 [842]21:22 [843]22:2 [844]22:21
[845]22:36 [846]22:37 [847]22:39 [848]22:39 [849]22:39
[850]22:40 [851]23:11 [852]23:37 [853]25:14 [854]25:14-15
[855]25:21 [856]25:35 [857]25:37 [858]25:40 [859]25:45
[860]25:46 [861]25:46 [862]26:17 [863]26:36 [864]26:39
[865]26:39 [866]26:42 [867]26:42 [868]26:48 [869]27:25
Mark
[870]2:19 [871]2:27 [872]6:32 [873]10:21 [874]11:24
[875]11:24 [876]12:31 [877]12:33 [878]14:3-5 [879]16:17
[880]16:18
Luke
[881]1:38 [882]1:38 [883]1:40 [884]1:58 [885]1:60 [886]1:75
[887]1:75 [888]1:80 [889]2:17 [890]2:27 [891]2:35 [892]2:44
[893]2:49 [894]2:51 [895]6:12 [896]6:32 [897]6:32 [898]6:33
[899]6:36 [900]6:38 [901]6:40 [902]6:45 [903]7:38 [904]7:38
[905]7:45 [906]9:24 [907]9:28 [908]10:19 [909]10:27
[910]10:27 [911]10:28 [912]11:5-13 [913]11:6 [914]11:13
[915]11:28 [916]12:21 [917]12:33 [918]13:24 [919]14:28
[920]14:29 [921]15:20 [922]15:20 [923]15:21 [924]15:32
[925]16:10-12 [926]17:5 [927]17:6 [928]17:6 [929]17:10
[930]17:10 [931]17:10 [932]17:16 [933]17:19 [934]17:20
[935]17:20 [936]17:21 [937]17:21 [938]17:33 [939]18:1
[940]18:1-7 [941]18:14 [942]20:36 [943]21:34 [944]22:24
[945]22:42 [946]22:42
John
[947]1:4 [948]1:29 [949]1:36 [950]2:2 [951]3:36 [952]4:24
[953]4:34 [954]4:38 [955]4:47 [956]5:23 [957]5:30 [958]5:44
[959]6:12 [960]7:7 [961]8:9 [962]8:32 [963]8:32 [964]8:32
[965]8:32 [966]9:31 [967]9:31 [968]10:1-42 [969]10:3
[970]10:17 [971]11:3 [972]11:11 [973]11:16 [974]11:23
[975]11:33 [976]11:41 [977]11:41 [978]12:2 [979]12:3-5
[980]12:25 [981]12:26 [982]12:43 [983]13:4 [984]13:4
[985]13:4 [986]13:34 [987]13:35 [988]14:10 [989]14:12
[990]14:12 [991]14:13 [992]14:30 [993]15:12 [994]15:13
[995]15:14 [996]15:17 [997]15:27 [998]16:23 [999]16:23
[1000]16:24 [1001]16:33 [1002]17:1 [1003]17:3 [1004]17:3
[1005]17:9 [1006]17:15 [1007]17:19 [1008]17:21 [1009]18:37
[1010]19:25 [1011]19:26 [1012]20:17
Acts
[1013]2:29 [1014]2:42 [1015]3:14 [1016]4:13 [1017]4:20
[1018]4:29 [1019]4:31 [1020]4:32 [1021]5:4 [1022]5:4
[1023]7:59 [1024]9:13 [1025]9:27 [1026]9:28 [1027]10:15
[1028]11:1-30 [1029]13:46 [1030]14:3 [1031]14:17 [1032]15:20
[1033]15:29 [1034]17:26 [1035]17:26 [1036]17:27 [1037]17:27
[1038]17:28 [1039]17:28 [1040]17:29 [1041]18:26 [1042]19:8
[1043]20:19 [1044]20:34 [1045]20:35 [1046]20:35 [1047]20:37
[1048]23:1 [1049]24:3 [1050]24:16 [1051]26:26 [1052]27:35
[1053]28:2 [1054]28:7 [1055]28:31
Romans
[1056]1:14 [1057]1:19 [1058]1:19 [1059]1:19-21 [1060]1:20
[1061]1:20 [1062]1:20 [1063]1:20 [1064]1:20 [1065]1:21
[1066]2:6 [1067]2:6 [1068]2:7 [1069]2:7 [1070]2:7
[1071]2:10 [1072]2:13 [1073]2:14 [1074]2:14 [1075]2:15
[1076]2:15 [1077]2:24 [1078]2:29 [1079]3:11 [1080]3:18
[1081]4:3 [1082]4:4 [1083]4:13-14 [1084]4:18 [1085]5:2
[1086]5:2 [1087]5:4 [1088]5:5 [1089]5:5 [1090]5:12-21
[1091]5:19 [1092]6:12 [1093]6:13 [1094]6:13 [1095]7:15
[1096]7:22 [1097]7:28 [1098]8:12 [1099]8:12 [1100]8:14
[1101]8:14 [1102]8:15 [1103]8:19-22 [1104]8:24 [1105]8:26
[1106]8:27 [1107]8:29 [1108]8:31 [1109]9:1 [1110]9:3
[1111]9:20 [1112]11:16 [1113]11:33 [1114]11:35 [1115]11:35-36
[1116]11:36 [1117]12:1 [1118]12:2 [1119]12:2 [1120]12:3
[1121]12:10 [1122]12:10 [1123]12:12 [1124]12:12 [1125]12:13
[1126]12:16 [1127]13:1-4 [1128]13:5 [1129]13:5 [1130]13:7
[1131]13:7-9 [1132]13:8 [1133]13:8-10 [1134]13:9 [1135]13:10
[1136]13:13 [1137]13:14 [1138]14:1 [1139]14:1-7 [1140]14:2
[1141]14:2 [1142]14:17 [1143]14:17 [1144]14:19 [1145]14:20
[1146]14:21 [1147]14:22 [1148]15:1-2 [1149]15:2 [1150]15:6
[1151]15:13 [1152]15:14 [1153]15:14 [1154]15:15 [1155]16:6
[1156]16:12 [1157]16:16 [1158]16:19 [1159]16:27
1 Corinthians
[1160]1:9 [1161]1:10 [1162]1:21 [1163]1:30 [1164]2:6
[1165]3:8 [1166]3:12 [1167]3:22 [1168]4:2 [1169]4:5
[1170]4:16 [1171]4:20 [1172]5:1 [1173]6:12 [1174]6:16
[1175]6:19 [1176]6:19 [1177]6:20 [1178]6:20 [1179]7:1-40
[1180]7:2 [1181]7:4 [1182]7:7-8 [1183]7:10 [1184]7:12
[1185]7:14 [1186]7:22 [1187]7:23 [1188]7:25 [1189]7:25
[1190]7:28 [1191]7:28 [1192]7:32 [1193]7:34 [1194]7:37
[1195]7:37 [1196]9:4 [1197]9:5 [1198]9:12-18 [1199]9:25
[1200]9:25 [1201]10:6 [1202]10:13 [1203]10:23 [1204]10:24
[1205]10:25 [1206]10:25 [1207]10:26 [1208]10:30 [1209]10:31
[1210]10:31 [1211]11:1 [1212]11:4-6 [1213]11:5 [1214]11:7
[1215]11:8 [1216]11:9 [1217]11:10-15 [1218]11:11 [1219]12:21
[1220]13:1 [1221]13:4 [1222]13:9 [1223]13:10 [1224]13:10
[1225]13:11 [1226]13:13 [1227]14:20 [1228]14:20 [1229]15:10
[1230]15:32 [1231]15:58 [1232]16:14 [1233]16:16 [1234]16:20
2 Corinthians
[1235]1:12 [1236]3:12 [1237]5:1 [1238]5:4 [1239]5:6
[1240]5:7 [1241]5:8 [1242]5:9 [1243]5:11 [1244]6:5
[1245]7:1 [1246]7:1 [1247]7:1 [1248]8:1-5 [1249]10:15
[1250]10:18 [1251]11:23 [1252]11:27 [1253]12:8 [1254]12:9
[1255]12:10 [1256]13:12
Galatians
[1257]2:9 [1258]2:20 [1259]3:6 [1260]3:24 [1261]3:28
[1262]4:4 [1263]4:6 [1264]4:6 [1265]5:13 [1266]5:14
[1267]5:14 [1268]5:14 [1269]5:22 [1270]5:24
Ephesians
[1271]1:4 [1272]1:8 [1273]1:16 [1274]1:17 [1275]1:18
[1276]1:18 [1277]3:12 [1278]3:12 [1279]3:18 [1280]3:20
[1281]4:1 [1282]4:2 [1283]4:2 [1284]4:13 [1285]4:13
[1286]4:13 [1287]4:24 [1288]4:24 [1289]4:25 [1290]4:28
[1291]4:32 [1292]5:1 [1293]5:2 [1294]5:9 [1295]5:9
[1296]5:10 [1297]5:15-17 [1298]5:17 [1299]5:18 [1300]5:19
[1301]5:21 [1302]5:22 [1303]5:23 [1304]5:28 [1305]5:28
[1306]5:28 [1307]5:29 [1308]5:29 [1309]5:33 [1310]6:1
[1311]6:1 [1312]6:2 [1313]6:3 [1314]6:4 [1315]6:18
[1316]6:18 [1317]6:18 [1318]6:18 [1319]6:19 [1320]6:20
Philippians
[1321]1:4 [1322]1:9 [1323]1:10 [1324]1:20 [1325]1:21
[1326]2:3 [1327]2:6-8 [1328]2:8 [1329]2:15 [1330]2:29
[1331]3:1 [1332]3:8 [1333]3:12 [1334]3:15 [1335]3:17
[1336]3:21 [1337]4:4 [1338]4:4 [1339]4:5 [1340]4:6
[1341]4:6 [1342]4:8 [1343]4:8 [1344]4:8 [1345]4:9 [1346]4:9
Colossians
[1347]1:9 [1348]1:9 [1349]1:9 [1350]1:10 [1351]1:10
[1352]1:11 [1353]1:11 [1354]1:15 [1355]1:28 [1356]2:18
[1357]3:10 [1358]3:10 [1359]3:10 [1360]3:12 [1361]3:12
[1362]3:14 [1363]3:16 [1364]3:16 [1365]3:17 [1366]3:17
[1367]3:20 [1368]4:2 [1369]4:2 [1370]4:3
1 Thessalonians
[1371]1:3 [1372]2:2 [1373]2:9 [1374]3:5 [1375]3:13
[1376]3:13 [1377]4:6 [1378]4:9 [1379]4:11 [1380]4:11
[1381]4:11 [1382]5:6 [1383]5:9 [1384]5:12 [1385]5:12
[1386]5:13 [1387]5:17 [1388]5:18 [1389]5:24 [1390]5:26
2 Thessalonians
[1391]1:8 [1392]3:3 [1393]3:7 [1394]3:10
1 Timothy
[1395]1:5 [1396]2:1-3 [1397]2:1-3 [1398]2:4 [1399]2:4
[1400]2:8 [1401]2:9 [1402]2:9 [1403]2:9 [1404]2:9
[1405]2:10 [1406]2:15 [1407]2:15 [1408]3:2 [1409]3:2
[1410]3:2 [1411]3:2 [1412]3:2 [1413]3:10 [1414]4:3-5
[1415]4:4 [1416]4:4 [1417]4:4 [1418]4:5 [1419]4:88
[1420]5:10 [1421]5:17 [1422]6:12 [1423]6:17 [1424]6:18
[1425]6:19 [1426]6:19
2 Timothy
[1427]1:3 [1428]2:13 [1429]2:24 [1430]3:7 [1431]3:16
[1432]3:17 [1433]3:17 [1434]4:8
Titus
[1435]1:8 [1436]1:8 [1437]1:15 [1438]1:15 [1439]1:15
[1440]2:1 [1441]2:5 [1442]2:7
Hebrews
[1443]2:11 [1444]5:7 [1445]5:8 [1446]5:14 [1447]6:10
[1448]6:10 [1449]7:1 [1450]9:9 [1451]11:1 [1452]11:1
[1453]11:6 [1454]11:8 [1455]12:2 [1456]12:3 [1457]12:14
[1458]13:1 [1459]13:2 [1460]13:16 [1461]13:16 [1462]13:18
[1463]13:18 [1464]13:21 [1465]18:17
James
[1466]1:5 [1467]1:5 [1468]1:5 [1469]1:6 [1470]1:7
[1471]1:12 [1472]1:17 [1473]1:25 [1474]1:27 [1475]2:8
[1476]2:8 [1477]2:8 [1478]2:19 [1479]3:2 [1480]3:9
[1481]3:13 [1482]3:17 [1483]4:3 [1484]4:6 [1485]4:7
[1486]4:8 [1487]4:8 [1488]4:10 [1489]4:12 [1490]5:13-18
[1491]5:14 [1492]5:16 [1493]5:16
1 Peter
[1494]1:2 [1495]1:14 [1496]1:15 [1497]1:15 [1498]1:16
[1499]1:16 [1500]1:19 [1501]1:22 [1502]1:22 [1503]2:9
[1504]2:9 [1505]2:9 [1506]2:12 [1507]2:14 [1508]2:15
[1509]2:17 [1510]2:19 [1511]3:7 [1512]3:7 [1513]3:12
[1514]3:15 [1515]3:15 [1516]3:16 [1517]3:18 [1518]4:7
[1519]4:8 [1520]4:8 [1521]4:9 [1522]4:10 [1523]5:4
[1524]5:5 [1525]5:5 [1526]5:14
2 Peter
[1527]1:3 [1528]1:3 [1529]1:5 [1530]2:12 [1531]3:18
1 John
[1532]1:1-3 [1533]1:3 [1534]1:9 [1535]2:1 [1536]2:5
[1537]2:6 [1538]2:17 [1539]2:25 [1540]2:29 [1541]3:3
[1542]3:7 [1543]3:11 [1544]3:11-13 [1545]3:22 [1546]4:7
[1547]4:7-9 [1548]4:8 [1549]4:11 [1550]4:12 [1551]4:13
[1552]4:18 [1553]4:19 [1554]4:20 [1555]4:21 [1556]5:1
[1557]5:2 [1558]5:3 [1559]5:3 [1560]5:14
Revelation
[1561]2:2 [1562]2:3 [1563]2:10 [1564]2:10 [1565]3:5
[1566]14:5 [1567]14:13 [1568]22:14
Sirach
[1569]15:14
__________________________________________________________________
Index of Greek Words and Phrases
* heis mian sarka: [1570]1
* agathosune: [1571]1
* andreia: [1572]1
* arete: [1573]1 [1574]2
* hagiasmos: [1575]1
* hagiosune: [1576]1
* enkrateia: [1577]1
* eleutheros, eleutheria: [1578]1
* elpis: [1579]1
* isangeloi: [1580]1
* hopheile: [1581]1
* hupakoe: [1582]1
* a: [1583]1
* agathe suneidesis: [1584]1
* b: [1585]1
* g: [1586]1
* dikaiosune: [1587]1
* eusebeia: [1588]1 [1589]2
* thelein: [1590]1
* koomios: [1591]1
* kopos: [1592]1
* kathara: [1593]1
* kale: [1594]1
* kalon: [1595]1
* kopia: [1596]1
* krinon: [1597]1
* kolasin echei: [1598]1
* logismoi: [1599]1
* mia kardia kai psuche: [1600]1
* pistis: [1601]1
* parrhesia: [1602]1
* pleroma: [1603]1
* prassein ta idia: [1604]1
* sarx: [1605]1
* sunoida: [1606]1
* sophron: [1607]1
* sophia: [1608]1
* suneidesis: [1609]1
* sophrosune: [1610]1 [1611]2
* teleioi: [1612]1
* teleios: [1613]1
* telos: [1614]1
* tapeinophrosune: [1615]1
* phobos Theou: [1616]1
* phronesis: [1617]1
* charisma: [1618]1
__________________________________________________________________
Index of Hebrew Words and Phrases
* tvv: [1619]1
* tvv: [1620]1
* yd: [1621]1
* ysr: [1622]1
* lvv: [1623]1
* mspt: [1624]1
__________________________________________________________________
Index of Latin Words and Phrases
* `a priori: [1625]1
* Liberum arbitrium: [1626]1
* Opera supererogatoria: [1627]1
* PER SE: [1628]1
* Reservatio mentalis: [1629]1
* Summae casuum: [1630]1
* Ultra posse nemo obligatur: [1631]1
* Unitas Fratrum: [1632]1
* aequale temperamentum qualitatum corporis: [1633]1
* communicatio idiomatum: [1634]1
* consilia: [1635]1
* de gustibus non est disputandum: [1636]1
* gratus, jucundus, suavis: [1637]1
* habitus: [1638]1
* liberum arbitrium: [1639]1
* malum originis: [1640]1
* neutrum: [1641]1
* opera supererogationis: [1642]1
* patres: [1643]1
* pietas: [1644]1
* praecepta: [1645]1
* reductio ad absurdum: [1646]1
* sanctum sanctorum: [1647]1
* sapientia et notitia dei certior: [1648]1
* sensu medio: [1649]1
* sobrietas, justitia, pietas: [1650]1
* suum cuique: [1651]1
* vice versa: [1652]1 [1653]2
__________________________________________________________________
Index of Pages of the Print Edition
[1654]i [1655]ii [1656]iii [1657]iv [1658]v [1659]vi [1660]vii
[1661]viii [1662]ix [1663]x [1664]xi [1665]xii [1666]xiii
[1667]xiv [1668]xv [1669]xvi [1670]1 [1671]2 [1672]3 [1673]4
[1674]5 [1675]6 [1676]7 [1677]8 [1678]9 [1679]10 [1680]11
[1681]12 [1682]13 [1683]14 [1684]15 [1685]16 [1686]17 [1687]18
[1688]19 [1689]20 [1690]21 [1691]22 [1692]23 [1693]24 [1694]25
[1695]26 [1696]27 [1697]28 [1698]29 [1699]30 [1700]31 [1701]32
[1702]33 [1703]34 [1704]35 [1705]36 [1706]37 [1707]38 [1708]39
[1709]40 [1710]41 [1711]42 [1712]43 [1713]44 [1714]45 [1715]46
[1716]47 [1717]48 [1718]49 [1719]50 [1720]51 [1721]52 [1722]53
[1723]54 [1724]55 [1725]56 [1726]57 [1727]58 [1728]59 [1729]60
[1730]61 [1731]62 [1732]63 [1733]64 [1734]65 [1735]66 [1736]67
[1737]68 [1738]69 [1739]70 [1740]71 [1741]72 [1742]73 [1743]74
[1744]75 [1745]76 [1746]77 [1747]78 [1748]79 [1749]80 [1750]81
[1751]82 [1752]83 [1753]84 [1754]85 [1755]86 [1756]87 [1757]88
[1758]89 [1759]90 [1760]91 [1761]92 [1762]93 [1763]94 [1764]95
[1765]96 [1766]97 [1767]98 [1768]99 [1769]100 [1770]101
[1771]102 [1772]103 [1773]104 [1774]105 [1775]106 [1776]107
[1777]108 [1778]109 [1779]110 [1780]111 [1781]112 [1782]113
[1783]114 [1784]115 [1785]116 [1786]117 [1787]118 [1788]119
[1789]120 [1790]121 [1791]122 [1792]123 [1793]124 [1794]125
[1795]126 [1796]127 [1797]128 [1798]129 [1799]130 [1800]131
[1801]132 [1802]133 [1803]134 [1804]135 [1805]136 [1806]137
[1807]138 [1808]139 [1809]140 [1810]141 [1811]142 [1812]143
[1813]144 [1814]145 [1815]146 [1816]147 [1817]148 [1818]149
[1819]150 [1820]151 [1821]152 [1822]153 [1823]154 [1824]155
[1825]156 [1826]157 [1827]158 [1828]159 [1829]160 [1830]161
[1831]162 [1832]163 [1833]164 [1834]165 [1835]166 [1836]167
[1837]168 [1838]169 [1839]170 [1840]171 [1841]172 [1842]173
[1843]174 [1844]175 [1845]176 [1846]177 [1847]178 [1848]179
[1849]180 [1850]181 [1851]182 [1852]183 [1853]184 [1854]185
[1855]186 [1856]187 [1857]188 [1858]189 [1859]190 [1860]191
[1861]192 [1862]193 [1863]194 [1864]195 [1865]196 [1866]197
[1867]198 [1868]199 [1869]200 [1870]201 [1871]202 [1872]203
[1873]204 [1874]205 [1875]206 [1876]207 [1877]208 [1878]209
[1879]210 [1880]211 [1881]212 [1882]213 [1883]214 [1884]215
[1885]216 [1886]217 [1887]218 [1888]219 [1889]220 [1890]221
[1891]222 [1892]223 [1893]224 [1894]225 [1895]226 [1896]227
[1897]228 [1898]229 [1899]230 [1900]231 [1901]232 [1902]233
[1903]234 [1904]235 [1905]236 [1906]237 [1907]238 [1908]239
[1909]240 [1910]241 [1911]242 [1912]243 [1913]244 [1914]245
[1915]246 [1916]247 [1917]248 [1918]249 [1919]250 [1920]251
[1921]252 [1922]253 [1923]254 [1924]255 [1925]256 [1926]257
[1927]258 [1928]259 [1929]260 [1930]261 [1931]262 [1932]263
[1933]264 [1934]265 [1935]266 [1936]267 [1937]268 [1938]269
[1939]270 [1940]271 [1941]272 [1942]273 [1943]274 [1944]275
[1945]276 [1946]277 [1947]278 [1948]279 [1949]280 [1950]281
[1951]282 [1952]283 [1953]284 [1954]285 [1955]286 [1956]287
[1957]288 [1958]289 [1959]290 [1960]291 [1961]292 [1962]293
[1963]294 [1964]295 [1965]296 [1966]297 [1967]298 [1968]299
[1969]300 [1970]301 [1971]302 [1972]303 [1973]304 [1974]305
[1975]306 [1976]307 [1977]308 [1978]309 [1979]310 [1980]311
[1981]312 [1982]313 [1983]314 [1984]315 [1985]316 [1986]317
[1987]318 [1988]319 [1989]320 [1990]321 [1991]322 [1992]323
[1993]324 [1994]325 [1995]326 [1996]327 [1997]328 [1998]329
[1999]330 [2000]331 [2001]332 [2002]333 [2003]334 [2004]335
[2005]336 [2006]337 [2007]338 [2008]339 [2009]340 [2010]341
[2011]342 [2012]343 [2013]344 [2014]345 [2015]346 [2016]347
[2017]348
__________________________________________________________________
This document is from the Christian Classics Ethereal
Library at Calvin College, http://www.ccel.org,
generated on demand from ThML source.
References
1. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=3#iv.i.i.i-p2.1
2. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=4#iv.i.i.i-p2.1
3. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=26#v.i.ii.i-p3.1
4. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=27#vi.iii.ii.ii-p57.1
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6. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=28#vi.iii.ii.ii-p57.1
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11. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=29#v.i.iii.iii-p2.2
12. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=29#vi.iii.ii.ii-p217.5
13. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=30#v.i.iii.iii-p2.2
14. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=1&scrV=31#iv.i.i.i-p2.1
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16. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=9#vi.iii.ii.ii-p112.3
17. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=15#vi.iii.ii.ii-p115.3
18. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=15#vi.iii.ii.ii-p118.1
19. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=15#vi.iii.ii.ii-p133.1
20. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=16#v.i.ii.iii-p2.1
21. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=16#vi.iii.ii.ii-p10.1
22. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=16#vi.iii.ii.ii-p133.1
23. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=17#v.i.ii.iii-p2.1
24. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=17#vi.iii.ii.ii-p10.1
25. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=18#vi.iii.ii.ii-p57.1
26. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=19#v.i.ii.ii-p3.3
27. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=20#v.i.ii.ii-p3.3
28. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=21#v.i.iii.iii-p2.1
29. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=23#v.i.ii.ii-p3.4
30. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=23#vi.iii.ii.ii-p273.1
31. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=24#vi.iii.ii.ii-p278.1
32. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=2&scrV=24#vi.iii.ii.ii-p289.12
33. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=2#v.i.ii.ii-p3.5
34. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=3#v.i.ii.ii-p3.5
35. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=6#vi.iii.ii.ii-p186.1
36. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=16#v.i.iii.i-p5.2
37. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=16#vi.iii.ii.ii-p281.4
38. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=19#v.i.iii.i-p5.2
39. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=19#v.i.iii.iii-p3.2
40. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=20#v.i.ii.i-p5.5
41. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=20#vi.iii.ii.ii-p57.1
42. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=21#vi.iii.ii.ii-p217.7
43. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=4#vi.iii.ii.ii-p160.1
44. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=4#vi.iii.ii.ii-p217.6
45. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=7#iv.ii-p5.6
46. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=15#vi.iii.ii.ii-p90.1
47. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=17#vi.iii.ii.ii-p246.1
48. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=21#vi.iii.ii.ii-p246.2
49. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=22#vi.iii.ii.ii-p246.2
50. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=25#v.i.ii.i-p5.5
51. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=5&scrV=22#iv.ii-p5.8
52. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=5&scrV=24#iv.ii-p5.8
53. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=5&scrV=29#v.i.ii.i-p5.5
54. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=6&scrV=9#iv.ii-p5.8
55. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=6&scrV=22#vi.iii.ii.ii-p261.9
56. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=7&scrV=5#vi.iii.ii.ii-p261.9
57. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=8&scrV=20#vi.iii.ii.ii-p160.2
58. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=8&scrV=21#vi.iii.ii.ii-p90.1
59. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=2#vi.iii.ii.ii-p220.3
60. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=3#vi.iii.ii.ii-p217.4
61. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=3#vi.iii.ii.ii-p220.3
62. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=6#v.i.ii.i-p3.1
63. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=7#vi.iii.ii.ii-p278.1
64. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=9#vi.iii.ii.ii-p253.2
65. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=10#vi.iii.ii.ii-p211.16
66. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=11#vi.iii.ii.ii-p90.1
67. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=12#vi.iii.ii.ii-p214.9
68. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=15#vi.iii.ii.ii-p211.16
69. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=21#vi.iii.ii.ii-p179.1
70. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=23#vi.iii.ii.ii-p288.1
71. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=23#vi.iii.ii.ii-p294.4
72. file://localhost/ccel/w/wuttke/ethics2/cache/ethics2.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=9&scrV=25#vi.iii.ii.ii-p297.11
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